when your heart needs a forest,

A wandering willow endures the soft strength of the wind

but the wind is natural and inevitable.

A wandering man walks sternly into the wind and his soul parts ways with him,
two shadow lengths behind,

how far into the wind can a wandering soul walk before it can never be whole,

all time considers consideration

Saint Augustine sings the seventh

"I am not afraid of anything anymore,
it's all concrete - flesh and flowers"

because of you,

She begged an opinion of found love at a rosed-cheeked age,

As this was all she knelt for,

her kin had fell deeply, maddeningly in the arms of there soul’s sunken halve.

Arise therefore..

How big was there universe?

Hold your wiry words

Perhaps it better to create a smaller universe that way there is not so much space to fill, so much emptiness.

Hyacinth Prince.

A kaleidoscope of graphite embellished the pores within his skin marring his expression with a ceaseless Medusans’ grin.

He wore an array of flowers that he would drape upon his figure as if ashamed of the lucid flesh that permeated beneath the flora & fauna..

Skin crafting the air with heralded hormones..
foresting a scented mirage of fervour

This caused me to great him each time with both hands out stretched like a beggar, I would gesture towards his face and enfold it with both hands.

Those damned grand thorns.

monument

she deserved a little living too