dotted lines between vision and submission
the wavy schism benefitting just one bare-rythm,
your valour bites hard into greywhite flesh
producing mottled,clotted strings that harden lumpy.
all the fun of the fayre encompassed in a single balloon,which takes a flight of fancy, stripping the sky of any hue as it vanishes.
my skeletal fragility is momentarily gnawed upon,by tiny voles who skitter up the tree i thought to be spiny.my carcass stretched, you beat upon it with tiny fists,pounding the tempo my frayed feet skip.