October 1 = apple upside down cake, tea, new brakes, a kernel and a knife in your pocket; woe and wings.
October 1 = apple upside down cake, tea, new brakes, a kernel and a knife in your pocket; woe and wings.
When Venusians reign and we admit our flying unidentifieds; when you miss her more all the time. . . then you’re pulled into a kiss of equal cups and you turn the volume higher.
For when you’re vestal and a smash with a fresh spray of roses and yer primline neat with what you need to do. *And how!*, in B&W.
… and where is that harmony? Sweet harmony is when the roaring continues uninterrupted over the gaps of shifting channels. linear time is a joke. when you order an iced honeybear at the halfwit wormhole and plan on the three levels of love-worn pages in the neighborhood-nearby future
When tears of a drowning pool and your other half wakes you up early to tell you ‘we’re going to war,’ after his own end-of-world dreams. Time for the after-party–invites out, sneakers in the mail, and a new set of clubs. . .
Quand Gemeaux, morning sunshine! The Lovers spiff up from the conjoin portal, in emerald gold and bloom from the wild pasture down the moonlight mile. A fever, if you let it.
When there’s stained glass for piety, and nemeses emerge; in the wild pasture, down a two-lane sidewinder—a matter of safety, or a rendezvous?
n i’ll dogwalk u hoes. tfw u got yr bag w/ a tape
of a touch of mink and ur mental mines’ Mitchumy––dread-looming knuckles and a true-footed saxophone––drop your shades, O &
that bottle hit different when i bust it across your head . . .
for when: Do *anything* for clout? She gone. It’s like trying to catch a freight train with a butterfly net.
Le Verseau avec Roméo Elvis … tout oublier.