Present Continuum - may mix
I stare at the eye of the midnight flame till it dawns as the rising sun; watch wax drip tiers of molten waves with flow of noonday tides. In snuffed wick’s trailing...
I stare at the eye of the midnight flame till it dawns as the rising sun; watch wax drip tiers of molten waves with flow of noonday tides. In snuffed wick’s trailing...
Tastes like waffles.
Some days are clouded like dazzled flying girafes.
Are we to venture out into space?
Sometimes my head turns into a balloon and flies away.
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