In market’s bustle, I buy promises of time- new shoes I don’t need.
When I was alive, you quickened in bright crimsons. When I was alive. (Image: Wasan Tita/Shutterstock)
Bubbles are venous in the red river’s valleys- oxygenated. [Image: https://pixabay.com/users/crystal_blair-16909546/ ]
In the wet of dreamshe rides on the rocking horse,gloves the mast of sleep. [Image: https://pixabay.com/users/ju_turner-12230830/ ]
Once the eyes were closed,grey clouds were brought to boiling.Insular, all else.
I am of the cave Vying for creature comforts A thumb sucking babe
Everything gets thin Faulty ice on which we stand; the shields of the heart.
Creepers of sunfire paint the unmoving mountain, awake its eagles.
It’s a strange thing- I know Phobos and Deimos, those named moons of Mars.
You put on those airs Tripping the light fantastic Falling down the stairs
Stop chewing on stones for they will soon turn to teeth and heighten your pain
a white roof on a green barn passed so quickly, and too soon leaves, in afterimage, universes of regret