pass a forest of gridded new trees each bearing a white riga of snow balancing treacherously on the side. i want to make you come in my mouth.
clouds painted on a sea just for me.
i am tired in the sun but the gift is too beautiful to turn down, to close my eyes. in the moments i am writing i am searching for my camera to steal a moment and try to make a 2d permanent fixture of it.
i lose something dear to me.
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you are born with ass.
