cross our hands and pray to
the middle of our days;
ice storm eyes and
sunset breathing.
clutched fists fostering
naked beliefs in rivers
flavored with
rainbow pain
open heart
close fists
i am me in all forms
of mortar brick
and rotating
skins.
Friday, 7 December 2018
preferred idle eyes
started creating paperback tears out of idle pen hands, and look where it took us. i've encountered space between us but I've blur...
