#awallison

over you over//roll over//spin

I, the burgundy witch slide backwards into a younger gear akin to a new-wedding-sock Filling my soak with your disintegrating character your impotence becomes negligible as my investigations uncover a sky fetish I wish to erase my village and whistle back into the bush while the lands flatten like they used to be fingers not yet titled 10 hard green ropes encave our faces twig jumpers float up the sands I quote a dimmer source Romance warnings fade as we begin to heed our time as only that organs stilt and pulse A glowing overlay enchanted wilt container

Andrew W. Allison 2016