Untitled Poem
We crawl through moist humus like millipedes, feasting on dirt and dead, crumbling leaves while striped skies cycle through violet hues, while time's kisses take the shape of a bruise.
We crawl through moist humus like millipedes, feasting on dirt and dead, crumbling leaves while striped skies cycle through violet hues, while time's kisses take the shape of a bruise.