again, we have given the baby too much credit. these are simply the gods I grew up without. here is my son serenading the seizures his mother salvaged from the praying I do for my hands. here he is repeatedly not. here is yours the psalmic nonverbal. here they are shadows limiting death’s vocab in a tiny tent not crawling with legs of lamb.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
again, we have given the baby too much credit. these are simply the gods I grew up without. here is my son serenading the seizures his mother salvaged from the praying I do for my hands. here he is repeatedly not. here is yours the psalmic nonverbal. here they are shadows limiting death’s vocab in a tiny tent not crawling with legs of lamb.
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