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Forest
03:18
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3. |
A Spray Of Cloud-Pine
04:35
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5. |
Blight
05:09
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My hands are not like your hands. My body has nothing to offer this soil. Bury me in the forest and the forest will die. My limbs will stretch into roots and drain all life from the earth. I will always be alone.
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9. |
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Hoping that the warmth of snow will bring some comfort with its gray. False light will glow from the lamp. I will shade to hide the glare from your pale face, until it disappears and then it's gone. Sit so quiet, breathe so softly. Waiting for the walls to creak so you can finally let out a sigh: a breath that will illuminate the cell and all of its shapes inside the cold air. In the cold air.
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