Talking the nightly, star play saunter as they fall in synchronicity.
White noise blends with the symphonies serendipity. As we wade in the lacuna and shed our immortal coils.
The moons split themselves, in order to share themselves among the sun-stressed, -soaked, -stretched trinity.
The ache of kidneys, waiting for these unworn shoes to shift themselves. Let’s look away, and find a group or two to siphon their stories.
Then string them out in time. Say it once, said it twice until I until I no longer have to use the thought or tongues.
It will all be empty, and health will be our only escape from ourselves. be my reflections smile, as you play your first song in my mind.
Good morning me, Good morning you, let’s unentangle the vines of the morning wood, coated in morning dew. A somber good morning, with happy ending. You.