It’s showtime, pass me the papernightmares, I see them in coloryour lines are fiction, they’re vaporhere…
Smell the taste of burning orgasmic self-expression,lovers reach a paradise of wanting peaks of existence such as mountains, do,cherry…
Perhaps you are the flower in the stoneor, else, the memory I would hold, alonewhen all is…
after Outer Banks
after Adriana Mather
after Ani DiFranco