Flammable knifes pulsating through your lit tower regrets; kiss me Peirce me live in me I'm yours.
"when the cold rains kept on and killed the spring it was as though a young person had died for no reason." Ernest Hemingway
grieving greif
bountiful snow with stagnant silver wings and baby steps leaning us forward. i have been in this attic before and the leaks were distancing ...
