Light yawns in the womb of dawn,
spritzing the earth's skin with sticky citrus...
I am from shells, Marlboro Lights, and pita.
from the same old house I've been living in...
He thought I didn't notice
the words on his tongue were impaired...
This river reeks of shameful impurities -
stretching; contorting snake strangles land...
Curiosity scrapes my heels,
inflaming patience...
She skips around light posts,
clutching at her rebellious skirt and...
If only time would run like a river,
yet into the opposite direction...
For centuries
they've trapped you...
When the coldness
that comes along with emptiness...
Tonight I sleep -
brushed by the warmth of...
It's the season closest
if anything...
Allow me to re-state:
Perhaps fate is a calculated fable...