spit out sanctuaries in graveyards of skeletons decomposing in summer closets next to ripped denim and tank tops.
let glass crunch under canvas rubber-soled shoes and examine how rubber your soul is, easily bent to fit the mold.
how can you expect to get anywhere if you're scared of what the future tells you?
autumn leaves and candles dripping wax ghosts as flames of dancers reach high for sunrises that they don't remember.
chalkboard chills lift mountains of goosebumps in your skin, textures clashing like swords in a war not worth waging,
indents of pencils pressed too hard to pale tree skins.
make marks wherever seen fit.
hearts of gold are hard and cold,
but hearts of ice can be melted and boiled.