poeticjusticedaily's.Art.Blog

Was old as time itself in the woods where one could shelter underneath trucks and broken pipe lines just to find rest

I laid undiscerned by the roof tops unleavened by the politics of nature if there were and I do so now leaning on Melina trunks.

Mine too was rigid as the sums of time belittles the Arielle slopes and canines at the bay by the lakes. I cringe while craving the anaesthetic blue space and again I found lower selves by grey clouds.