We hear a muddled voice, speaking in rhythm and de facto secrecy, repeating…memorized lines…a religious act…or an act of mild mannered madness. Blues and greys fading to black fill the blanks of the walls, a small white bed somewhere in center. A Victorian nonchalance hangs in the air as it does in her hair, brunette […]
posts from senses
Of free will…my thoughts argue against and prove it true…my actions for and false…all a pleasure…to what may be…the senses.
The smell of rust flavored grass sand not yet glass A dew through hair moved by dubbed wind matching my musk Bare knees absent mind unkempt thoughts not kept Two eyes look back miss each other and keep going We are All Right.