One neighbor has come to me, swathed in her cloak and veil blue as the sea.
I lay, arms stretched in darkness, noon through the curtain call
We perched together, dug in roots that reached but did not intertwine for so long to each other
Alcohol Virgin Philosopher Kings club meeting, 7:30 sharp with homework and unsettled melodic war, all cacophonous in the background and you’ll wish you were
a shooting star flew over our heads today. did you know it’s not actually a star? it’s a meteoroid burning red white blue like
1. we, clouded with error create from the language of breath an earth, murked without wisdom but the reaching of so many hands