crinkles create the skin of a persimmon
date grape without a scent-
scentless essence of the earth
residing within each crease
you run teas through your veins in tastes of
chamomile, green, black,
direct a goverment of good graces
in rings rippling with confusion around you
your true age
covered in layer upon layer of paint
making tainted saints
of us all.
No reviews yet.