the cliff turned into sky
and the clouds to dreams
whose silken threads touched me
and i
f
e
l
l
the cliff turned into sky
and the clouds to dreams
whose silken threads touched me
and i
f
e
l
l
lines on the road paralyze me redefine me reignite a sort of otherworldly longing in me orange blurs into yellow blurs into black lines blink in and out of a parallel existence / red was never a factor in this but you could never chalk red into yo
this old sink,
hanging onto the wall by a thread
and a rusted pipe,
gushes water that still runs clear,
even after the generations of girls
(in pig- and pony-tails, braids and loose)
IZIMA
Be careful, Izima.
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