the sky is a cup of cream,
a flat canvas for me to paint my self confidence on
ive lost myself in a state of elation, a frivolous sweet feeling, peanut butter tongue, cranberry lips. feeling especially beautiful, new haircut vanity. tequila dizzy, and sleepy rose-faced delight. im losing myself in senses, smell, taste, touch, liquid-soft prophet's eyes. hazy gentle rain. sleeping beneath soft sheets of music. i hear the played chords of sea breath and the quivering of harp fingers. i long for the feel of moss beneath me, the rising of tides and sharp grass to lie lazy among. things do not revolve around my hands. words, breath, birds, all find their own course of life, and so will i.
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