We're somewhere in the stone
We live sequelae
Arms are our lives
exfoliated desire
Far dens of familiarity
And the mystique of the fire re-imburse
flesh fossils
We soften the stone
dint of lick to soften
These We soften moods divine
Whose death is the guardian stone
We asséchons heaven its thousand
In Gods wounds
Pleiades Lying in the firmament serene
O infirm mother
Nestled in utero night
I contemplate this admission of powerlessness
suffered martyrdom at the beauty
0 comments:
Post a Comment