I go where the trees are sleeping in droves.
in the peace of somnambulant groves;
perched in frostbite and sugar, with all my teeth
and postage stamps gathered into a pile
of awkward. But I continue like a crop
of circular arguments.
i hang stars where a storm should be.
and can’t remember where i was
Wednesday.
I'm always this.
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 12:15 AM UTC
I go where the trees are sleeping in droves.
in the peace of somnambulant groves;
perched in frostbite and sugar, with all my teeth
and postage stamps gathered into a pile
of awkward. But I continue like a crop
of circular arguments.
i hang stars where a storm should be.
and can’t remember where i was
Wednesday.
I'm always this.
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