There's a piece of self in every
leaf of this tree; minds fall
through every fiber of its being,
and I fuel the fire, can't you
bleed my smile in the taste? The
grace of your laugh is wrath plus
the waste of the young. Lungs
fill with every sound escaping the
cords of our voices... Sensible
withdrawal mimics the appearance
of serenity; Faith fail me not as
I accept the destruction of the
breathing of the ocean.
[16:51|26.10.011] ©c.thomas.carter
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