
vanish.trade.rocks. in sanguinolent dances we tradeour flowers for knots of the moon,cracking until the leftover asylum of poetryturns and explodes in our veins, Let it be the tongue of rocks, whereserenity will kiss you in due timeand frozen fingers wed in the plow of the womb,floating, innocent of madness, the moon, she turns an ewe […]
she loves you.