Sweet nectar gathering on lips of mothers now and forgotten. Savaging around for warmth radiating off the river. Twists our wrist wrong, and the pain is last a long time. Building up words of wisdom, moving in and out of random beds, we find our selves believing once again that this is just as lethal as they come. Growing wings, the sound scape of open fields comports and provides, leaves us bleeding in the most meticulous ways. Ideas flowing faster than the mouth can speak, speaking louder now, only so the vast amount of herds that roam here have grown scared and uneasy.
I sleep alone most nights, the sky my blanket. I feel my heart sinking deeper every day. Falling with the galaxies, turning in to a cosmic relief. I havnt felt the rest of the world yet. I havnt even felt myself.
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