breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe.
humans are just well-oiled machines most of the time. ticking hearts counting down to your own personal apocalypse. maybe your overefficient internal recycling plant holds the key to everlast. maybe it's just out to save the baby seals like the rest of us.
her guts are clocks striking midnight - the stagecoach goes nowhere.
you're light-leaded - it's an unfortunate typo but it makes a strange sort of sense.
red pen chases us out.
i'm into crisp white unmarked, alone
sheets of linen and paper strips
and you.
puppies are cute
sometimes i like rainbows
and summer skies and buttercups
and that abyss revealing unknown mythos
and just next door your jawline
is a mountain
snowy and treacherous but home
i suppose.
i'm nostalgic for the future, i'm done with the here and now.
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