clicking heels across white heliumfailing to tiptoe into the first linewith proper finessei jump toward the ending(as the balloon syllables into a sky..
in the middle of whatevernight's wrath,memories ignite dreamsthe fire sears philosophiesinto paranoid ashesburnt religion suffocates beliefthe breaths..
conceptionthat vowelis a chip off the old writers blockthat consonantin union with the othera marriage of lettersleads to children of wordsto a genera..