July 15th, 6:18 A.M. — The morning is calm and hazy, but I think she will clear later. Of the wind and what it will…
Air is the shape of gone things.It’s the shape of what-wasclinging to what-isin a continuous current of drifting, empty…
You are one sick individual.
Her mind was a dance floor.Her body, hers to mould.No need for hymns nor heroes,She found salvation in her soul.