(armed hopes)

My brain is the faith in orchid men and one day, everything.


(become compass)

My brain is the plea released to err.


(long granada)

My brain is the fortress quiet.


(the storm charms in)

My brain is the hope he sings when she's sleeping and the lilies soft in the air.


(youth claws)

My brain is the soft carriage of bygone replies.

(form fathers)

My brain is the fault of purple pride.

(we know release)

My brain is the last of her red haired decade.


(this takes)

My brain is the comfort in her cover.


(then ask)

My brain is the shake of shallow trumpets where she left, surprised at me.


(stiff units)

My brain is the following folly.


(daze naked)

My brain is the voice of the congregation promised righteousness by right.


(call others, come)

My brain is a fool's puppet pride.

(and say)

My brain is the sake of fortunate men whose time has come too late.

(coddle codex)

My brain is an always, something more. man. a mouse. a menace. a master. a mystery wrapped in wax paper and buried underground a summer, sweating purple roses and counting all the ways i could've loved you when you weren't there to notice me beating my chest in time with the dog on the corner howling wolf until i sour.