the theme is green and there are stars in your eyes as you vindictively plot restlessness
there are eyes in your stars as you contemplate the heavenly spread of deceased dust
hey small thing, youβre shedding and all these dropped DNA samples will clutter a multiverse that has already forgotten what toothpaste you use where you slept or that you slept when you slept if you slept
the theme is a clock in your grandmotherβs house ticking like a bomb in the desert
and all the sun from all the days of chlorine-drenched reminiscences is wiped away by a single stroke of time
a moment slides home stretched like the cover over an over-fluffed pillow and this is unquantifiable reverie an array of star-soaked ideals things you will never grow up to be knowing you will never grow up even once you grow up and even after
double-spaced reports on summer vacation and tax returns are geologically arranged
the theme is maybe and it is cumbersome to think that the stars in your eyes are made of something much older than purple