I am fluent in the tongues of my lost willow language.
No one can remember what patience has done to my forbidden filthy tongue.
So let me be your kindred scribe, let me endure the ******* eternal wrath of taming a demon such as the one that runs like the Volga river in your honeysuckle veins, I'll die trying,--- for you.
“Ahkira, I'll set this mirror up for you--"
"Lycan, it'll skew my beauty."
Quote on quote you howled the December lyrics & spun my name in the elements of the atmosphere & Aurora borealis. "I promised, didn't I?" Etching your voice in the hollow drums I call my mind & skai.
It's always been there.
Eyes catching the coals of Jupiter, foam and lust driving your shadow-bitten sanity.
Hostile under the wax of the moon, burning like matches you stumble in my constellation.
"i spy lovely sleeves of poetry raindrops slipping into weeping veins lungs of january & silver bucket eyes."
You tattooed this on your arm, Lycan.
“It’s the moon that pulls our waters, distance doesn’t count.”
I tattooed this on mine.
Arching up the sky ladder I'll climb it to show you I'm worthy. .
Movement No. 3. Written on June 8th, 2015.
I'm struck by the beast staring back at me Let me stargaze, It's always been you.