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Altug Aug 2018
her raw moon
blue and bitter
her festering flesh screaming at my shadow
let me ache and worship the deep crimson stain upon her satin bedsheet
but never fiddle with my dream
Altug Aug 2018
simpler hours- parcel of delicate childhood recollections.
flaking by the sweet, solemn whispers of remeberance.
a longing seed who seeped from my juvenile soul and drug itself directly below its feet- feeding into the loose dirt of our starving earth.
giving animation to the trees that mutate into robust vines- who bergeron and persistently haunt the hollows of my head- thriving ceaselessly.
serenity cowards and curls back up into itself.

— The End —