World
In my palms and words
On my everlasting.
I sentenced the colored crops
To find me clear. We Are
Spread apart in new fonts
And the moon is in love again.
My masterpiece warned me
To let it go slow...
I keep making Lower
Coils of patient
Dips. I believed in the scratches
On my wrists because they
Behaved as they should of.
Earth freeing underneath
Us an dates are
Sweetening the episode sky.
Tarnished portraits sundried
To thunder our morning with
Detailed dreams;we release
Our subtle toned shy’s.
Plant me in your
Music.
