did the sun visit the cold shores of some daughters shimmering eyelids that held her in such perfect contempt.
O, sweet child your arrogance is the flavor of god.
(but shall not those fearful minutes ;bleeding from times slashed wrist; splashing hot seconds over a dusty yellow)
that dangerous womb of light birthed a frigid nothing as my fingers slip on my buttons trying to shield my pink edifice from chastising breezes briskly beating a lonely melody on the loose weave of times everflowing river riven plait