something forgotten is blooming on the trees little wishes hanging from the ends of spindling digits kisses of color adorning brooding skies praying not for eternity but an absolute existence
night's eternal sorrow does not ensnare stars but entrances beings who desperately desire to taste the lips of mortal liars who pray to their gods for a night eternal
the breeze makes a home in my lungs it breathes for me quietly deliberately fans and feeds the tips and tails of flame between my lungs a wildfire begging to be put out— it roars anyway
What protects your knee But your devotion to me? You kneel down and scream “Look at me, please,” I hear a bug’s plea You are nothing to me Let your head hit my feet You wretched beggar flea