poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
this yellow, red, flowers of amberburnstrickles over as if pollen,staining the skin and any object it touches, like a vampire,leaving its teeth in skin,leaving the blood to leak from the site of shock,from the site of the bite,leaves it pink and purple,like bruise marks, in unexpected places,found later,during the hunt, the blue lagoons,the waters of Dark […]