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patrick-wakefield-1Poems
i am nothing the dying of closeness to perform jet           arrayed in ****** o' quivering lightness my own body softly in her living muss to fay mychestherchest or to bleed a stuttering rill o' life stuff where carefully is laid a garden o' sleeping children (uncreated                        unlivid                                               faultless) lust yet incredibly to fill crease and crevice burns and all muscles the tightness for hurting yearns,                                            '                                                               .                                                                                    ,                                                                                       '                                                                                   .
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Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
Untitled
i am nothing the dying of closeness to perform jet           arrayed in ****** o' quivering lightness my own body softly in her living muss to fay mychestherchest or to bleed a stuttering rill o' life stuff where carefully is laid a garden o' sleeping children (uncreated                        unlivid                                               faultless) lust yet incredibly to fill crease and crevice burns and all muscles the tightness for hurting yearns,                                            '                                                               .                                                                                    ,                                                                                       '                                                                                   .
patrick-wakefield-1
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patrick-wakefield-1
American
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
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