scarlet
boxes wrapped with
emerald forestry
and
inside papers. swollen tree
stumps
help me breathe out all
the
white peasants off the last
worlds.
we collide into ethereal
timelines;
so pack my
lap
unto your
beating
neckline and watch as our
thrusts
become patient in your
yawns.
visions of us will fade into
the
abyss of our unwedded country;
i
am twinkling around our witchcraft.
herbal
magics coming to life and
the
dream that you dream is no
longer
in the sky. the dream that
you
dream is no longer in just
your
sky.
