your cold heavy vapor swims up there and
itoldyouso face and
wild rose distillation, which
always has me coming
hard.

it stills it;
like lakes placid in the beginning back then, it
kills the pill
that takes me
and frames me
in the worst ways, like like like
an oil painting of a bowl of ******* fruit hung
in the abyss (?).

but sometimes i can't come
and then my thoughts hafta
turn the color darkknotsundone
so that i can shoot thorns
and be fuzzy peripheral again.