a mountain sphere i am
withering along your
removed corpse;
feather puncturing my
unreasonable spine
i am a flavor to this
version of skies.
dark necks throbbing
above another galactic
star;
where i am moonlit
in your classic
intentions.
this will be my last poem
so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...
