the doors of paper

how high are the walls
of gold and poison
people with wise hands
giddy on incised vanity
the world has a high regard
setting the doubt the pride
Shine the lights in the expanse
the heat in your hand
we share the regret
Sandy in high voltage
the tidings and had scraped away much
my cheeks stuck
like blueberries to the test
of his juice
that roams by our genes
My only I am you