full of spiders. you said you were falling for me and you never told me. where the trouble slows, every kid needs to know what beautiful is and silent, that I didn’t have to perform and wonder the whole thing, soft spots, impersonated dance, the chorus on a balcony of a paris baguette. you admit you love me, juvenile maybe and still very honey. areoles and volcanoes the misread I have for my throat.

my dream was equally disturbing and about offices

trees pods and people with walking sticks and graves and pepper the mountains. I have a hill that is