Wear your anticipation proudly.
Wait, wait for a drop.
A drop of virtue.
It calls you names:
Fixture,
Aspect,
Guest.
Starchflower judgment lines the mouths
Of every precancerous penny.
In the new room with out any locks,
Is catapedamania.
She\'s reasonable enough, does her job.
Latticino words form whelmed words whisper, worlds. Into existence.
Monday
Wednesdays
Thursday
Days of leaves falling to the ground
The bone branches, already gnawed on
There, across the fragile floor
Philip trys.
His eyes are green, and red lined.
He\'ll try to grow some more time
For smiles,
For Red,
For roads to the east.