there is a punchcard sin like a queen of spades smoldering in an alley. Engine, you hear how the gears churn, singing faster than we did before back when black magic dropped like a
An old witch in an older story strangled a princess while she slept and brought her kingdom half to ruin, just before the happy ending. In vain we readers will force open
like rivers blue veins down his hands pale and. sunsoaked . light nails like shells words come tumbling like the delicacy of grayed paper shrill into bright copper bowls of peppercorns
We're forced together by little hypocrisies - On the passionfruit sores of our straining bodies White mold from too little summer grows, And I look at God - my senses bend under his weight