The wretched treachery of the flesh
is a sip of nectarine tea in the shade of a willow,
a reoccuring dream,
a for sale sign in front of a derelict funeral parlor.
Inroads to wisdom
are just slopes to slip off of,
off into open air to elope with
unknowing; the oldest whirlwind ever to be tricked into a jar.
Really it’s all just counting stars like heartbeats
and then taking them for granted.
Im sorry for that ****
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 1:41 AM UTC
The wretched treachery of the flesh
is a sip of nectarine tea in the shade of a willow,
a reoccuring dream,
a for sale sign in front of a derelict funeral parlor.
Inroads to wisdom
are just slopes to slip off of,
off into open air to elope with
unknowing; the oldest whirlwind ever to be tricked into a jar.
Really it’s all just counting stars like heartbeats
and then taking them for granted.
Im sorry for that ****
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