Peering through a crack in the sky, from a seat on AA2658, the enso etched by the steady hand of Amaterasu my eyes are blinded— burning tundra, mountains of lava and dust visages of red thunder rumbling soveign across the clouds. written the last time I saw my sister.
the embarkation
"Well, that's like, your opinion man." And yeah, sure. The homeless and the glutton clumped like fried dough all doing blow, or alcohol, or music on the crossing of Auzerais and moonlight "San Jose. It's alright, at best." "Sure," I laugh, but seriously no man is an island entire unto himself . The hotel was …
not a sonnet no. ii
the beat of a heart knocking against the door a game, we play. come in, the voice says, light with laughter the drum, drum of some new adventure. come in, again, distant and moving i thought i should follow and so thinking, i tried "ours are the moments I play in the dark" -Lorde
The-Bleu-Bivouac 