I glide beside and behind
a fog gathering
where washed love stains satin
I hold
drawn tightly
swelling
The Follower my target
blasting out and in
between the graves of the ninety-eight percent
I breathe the introduction
in leaves inscribed
foiled
I am blown glass
molded in heat
in the shock waves of a bullet in slow motion
in free fall
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 4:48 AM UTC
I glide beside and behind
a fog gathering
where washed love stains satin
I hold
drawn tightly
swelling
The Follower my target
blasting out and in
between the graves of the ninety-eight percent
I breathe the introduction
in leaves inscribed
foiled
I am blown glass
molded in heat
in the shock waves of a bullet in slow motion
in free fall
