In evening
blood orange stained cuticles grip
the hemorrhaging garden hose.
Under the horse prancing dog
the high tide of the sky rolls in.
The world is dying
slowly grey.
Textual accompaniment to the ringing in my ears. Shared for no one but spoken into the world before it dries up and dances madly in the wind.
2 comments:
purdy and melancholy. nice.
Yes and very loife-loike.
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