FIRST ACT : PIECE SEVEN
late night subway stations, blurry polaroids, cosmos' milk slick tongues, blue velvet heavens, cherry bombs, deserted laundromats, blood smeared walls to look like crimson galaxies, split lips by diamond cut teeth: crystal tears, endless fears.
summer mornings, kisses taste like apricots, sticky orange marmalade spread on bread, buttermilk skies, dripping honey lips, golden hours: torn skin knees, stained glass wind chimes rattled by the soft breeze.
!!!
i'm not dead but i don't know what this is ...
