The windowsill is a pane of curiosity, while r a t t l i n g vents spout fabricated, woolly soothers, which brush my tender shins.
F
A
L
L
I
N
G off of six rubber disks. Peroxide slices through my vessels while mending.
Shaking hard and creating globular bubbles of matching bliss as the anxious densities wrestle their fate. A Union at last, it floods the stuff that’s “good for me” and is set back to dissipate again into masses of a divergent populace.
Stoplights shatter across cemented earth while slopping red discouragement into gutters.
Looking up, I have known, is my expected or worthy statement of conviction, something I did not register until I was strained at all posts.
Sideways beneath the sheets is where I become what I am.
The face of an Angel here is something representing hope for my selfless wish.
While Naysayers preached to me of my morality of Unpolluted solitude, I substantially failed at their flighty conduct, without a doubt in my mind.
Focusing on vocation with Gels and magnifying ice cream cones of metal, dreams of never letting go and chords rubbing into something useful. I lap up every falling chocolate chip and watch tears stream as the Apple reflects me in its sequined shine. Limberly sprawling through the memories and knowing that what is ahead is not what it Should be.
F
A
L
L
I
N
G off of six rubber disks. Peroxide slices through my vessels while mending.
Shaking hard and creating globular bubbles of matching bliss as the anxious densities wrestle their fate. A Union at last, it floods the stuff that’s “good for me” and is set back to dissipate again into masses of a divergent populace.
Stoplights shatter across cemented earth while slopping red discouragement into gutters.
Looking up, I have known, is my expected or worthy statement of conviction, something I did not register until I was strained at all posts.
Sideways beneath the sheets is where I become what I am.
The face of an Angel here is something representing hope for my selfless wish.
While Naysayers preached to me of my morality of Unpolluted solitude, I substantially failed at their flighty conduct, without a doubt in my mind.
Focusing on vocation with Gels and magnifying ice cream cones of metal, dreams of never letting go and chords rubbing into something useful. I lap up every falling chocolate chip and watch tears stream as the Apple reflects me in its sequined shine. Limberly sprawling through the memories and knowing that what is ahead is not what it Should be.
