The trees are sweating
and the flowers are thirsty.
My eyelids don’t want to cooperate.
Rocks seem to bend like water.
Minutes and hours are… sticky.
It’s a thumping pulse
of worry on a late July day.
Unlocked.
The trees are sweating
and the flowers are thirsty.
My eyelids don’t want to cooperate.
Rocks seem to bend like water.
Minutes and hours are… sticky.
It’s a thumping pulse
of worry on a late July day.
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