She's got a forked leather tongue that crumbles citadels like dry petals,and I'd like to fill my car with your blood,so that this cylindrical lead cap..
These arms are lengths of old kindling,and your every word is a wisp of cherry smoke rolling across pooled water colored midnight.I bend like warped w..
bury me in a sandbox somewhere in suburbiabeneath the cornflower ceiling spackled across the divideand divvy up my insides, to place them in funeral v..