Bleed until dried
Masticate my feelings
Among my blue veins
Natzi coats everywhere.
Newspapers but odysseys
Bruised words around the walls
Painting metamorphosis
Of my renascence.
Propulsions of photosynthesis
Evanesce of familiar portrets
Rebuilding my analogous corpse
Burning little hearts.
YOU ARE READING
sunrise storm || poetry
Poetrybecause my soul needs to be fed and my thoraxes need to collide in my mind, one lonely place for your shimmering heart.
