no time and so much time that it does not mean most to the silent man.
man of can of worms but not earthed ones moving tward the nourishment of land
no way an end yet ending one way, an oxymoron slime
lined movements of time, beat marked memories spun like wool cries
sublime
soul in paradise humming , silly plan
no map mountains, coward-ess clam
pearls are of the insides adorned raw
when open to sleeveless heart strings
you, i adore .
> wolf
