.echoes.

a million words flutter about my head like confused butterflies in a summery haze

1.20.2005

it's a sour blessing in the evening setting,
sorrow and lust have nothing to do with light
as it's caught falling through the floor,
and breaking into a thousand pieces
of assembly, freezing into a paradox.
fail and tie flight into morning when we awake
in a hurricane and stumble into ourselves
as we sink slowly into moonlight.

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