all contents subject to copyright by me, of me, for me.

Tuesday, September 30

sometimes it isnt some time, it is something

to sit and admit a burden uplifted
the quick decisions of neuron transitted
I think and I look whether time still exists
on the other side of four windows and sills

fair thee well to an ocean of seven tempers
eight times over the limit of a half whiskey ginger
a quarter cup sugar and still you wonder whether within as without
these visions can crumble


No comments:

Post a Comment