The sky drips into infinite little pools of fire and afternoon between here and the glossy surface of tomorrow. . .
The grays and purples spill into thin air and disappear just before the stubborn halo of dreams right above the jagged horizon . .
. . . . . . and then. . . . .
intense watermelon pink. . . . .
. . . the night slowly devours the cotton candy sky. .
. . . . leaving a watermelon sugar trace in my throat. .
. . . . not allowing me to season my thoughts to taste.









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I'm coming to visit you, well, the time is right for me anyway.
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Share your kindness, not your hate.
Love the art, before yourself.
bumstata
Stop Child Executions in IRAN
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Stop Child Executions in IRAN
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