from the slime adhering to each propeller they seem to gather
their nutrients. once tracking happiness you were led to beautiful
forests gang graffiti scratched on every trunk. if layers of peat
thicken above me i’ll dream of red lining each butterfly. angel
dust bargaining chip mars quake gene slice so the home defense
is not producing & starting to tire. because many wild flowers
on roadside you further down the inactive stretch perhaps a faux
documentary in the offing. attained your zenith in low pressure
troughs but i loved you nonetheless nimbus upon the edge of rain.
if they feasted on wheat germ what kind of fangs would they have?