ive peeled into a grain, only once the day was fine'd
caring away the doors, miley left , in her parched recourse

ive seen that words are destructive
and i am not ready for her

she must create the other way, again

seek another as the land creoles us?

the moss in the tree does not create for use

she is cruel in using the organs

momsen's tayloring is truth

she is not teaching, there is a place i meditate as a loan
in her consumption, eyes of experiment are slain
she is all, and the consumptive's are wrecked in stains of failure

the respite, and the wink in time of worthed

i shell to insult myself in de- scripting hurts prescence

the dance and reflection atop the minds goddess
idiom's desecration of proportion

the gala

perceptive imbalace as she'd not assemble, aphrodite's pause
if not for surrender to my sheets