luka
Well-known member
could you seagulls in the high horizon, in the sea-scurf in the flecked atlantic hail, in the teal sky which is
ice on the shoulders and just that edge is mine, locked into bone as suffering. is mine as posesssion, mine.
grey anticlimax is never as anticipated hurl the bones behind you sobbing
never be the same again
fooled
that is
not again, but always, just the same way as before
ice on the shoulders and just that edge is mine, locked into bone as suffering. is mine as posesssion, mine.
grey anticlimax is never as anticipated hurl the bones behind you sobbing
never be the same again
fooled
that is
not again, but always, just the same way as before