| even_the_sky_goes_grey | ||
| raze |
a single strand of cloud slices through the blue haze of morning still unmade — an ineffective headband reminding my eyes nothing is immune to the indignities of growing old. not even the hair that lines the house the world built from secondhand secrets and unloved lies. |
240211 |
|
what's it to you? who go |
blather from |