Mar 2020
Little angel bleeds dust, drinking
rasps of berries through the foresight of cauldrons; veritably so, It’s ******* seethes under a darkening lamp—bridged across the way of His seemingly tickled ferver: Little angel draws across the spined mountain, creaking forward and backward—roundabout the Little angel went, ways to go, days already spent, ways to go. Waves tracked behind her, aching for a touch—or did it? Little angel has no idea, not even for the world. Delusions were sewn into the fabric of reality, illusory silk that’s been stained with Symbols; flown through with a cry, tears shut and eye, ducts drifting apart: eyes rolling over yore to be nearest the benevolent rose. Oceans apart, drifting down through sleep; resting her head in the evening, Little angel is weak. Slow weeps dull the loud cries, dull noise while while red paint dries. Slow weeps dull the loud cries, dull noise while red paint dries.
rasps of berries through the foresight of cauldrons; veritably so, It’s ******* seethes under a darkening lamp—bridged across the way of His seemingly tickled ferver: Little angel draws across the spined mountain, creaking forward and backward—roundabout the Little angel went, ways to go, days already spent, ways to go. Waves tracked behind her, aching for a touch—or did it? Little angel has no idea, not even for the world. Delusions were sewn into the fabric of reality, illusory silk that’s been stained with Symbols; flown through with a cry, tears shut and eye, ducts drifting apart: eyes rolling over yore to be nearest the benevolent rose. Oceans apart, drifting down through sleep; resting her head in the evening, Little angel is weak. Slow weeps dull the loud cries, dull noise while while red paint dries. Slow weeps dull the loud cries, dull noise while red paint dries.
