Puritan seeking more weight
Machines look unhappy in the desert
“you can’t tell me
he didn’t do it”
no one there and it’s true
Her hands against the window
The empty backs of trucks are screaming
what more do you want from me
I’ll be as clear as I can
My son knows the puddle is an ocean
Our camera killed Her
He fell by himself
Imperfection is everywhere. I wear her star.
Africa is a long scar in my head.
Lovely mud ocean.
I’m seeing a world, no, a room, or
a space like a musical phase
princess, sister/s’aint & tribe
imperfect under funeral flowers
P/ity Merc(I)(Y) Peace
All alone in our boats