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The dance of the fig trees,

the music of the spring breeze,

the sadness decides to cease

when you are with me.

But I am never with you.

— Two?


A big billboard with your name on it sprouted in my dream.

I was walking around my house when it appeared out of nowhere.

Sprout on.


Curse estuary yachts

stealthily yawning

gnawing gin nitrogen

new weeks skip pies

self flowing ginger

return nuns sucking

giant tadpoles seem

merciful lust

tusks sky.


Being gone is like being here, the only different thing is your mind. But you’re still here and you’re gone. Done.


Thy demons lie on top of the world; radioactive. Oh curse, I need a minute.


Great similes:

Your arms like wings entrance my soul now.

The wooden heart like things old and lost smells sad.

The darkness as mysterious as your light shines all night long.

I dance for the first time like your love unleashed, free and zealous.

Your handwriting as magic as hands just born and breathing, resuscitates me.