Astute and aware, he stood
glaring at the morning sun, like...
You think I dont know it, but amongst
Your greenhouse kisses you scent of something else...
I'll abort you,
right here...
I'm afraid I will always be
a piece of debris...
Miss King is fat
with flesh, flesh...
I like to see a little girl
playing with her brother's friends...
That was not all they spoke of her
in rippling recesses of anarchy...
Early days
seized chaos...
You are
Winter...
These nights, love comes easily.
The air is honey-thick and steeped with Spring...
You awaken me
even when the weather...
Mistress of the Moon
and there she is...