Quake, my knees,
shiver dear.
Oxygen bites past windowpanes,
Under warm sheets, swarm.
Listen dreamers,
As dreams might
Hide, say in a wisp of smoke,
Shimmering semi-permeable starlight
Sweet, sweet like honey,
Silvered pockets, whiskey drop
Swirling sleep into promises
That keep like aged wine.
Butter, butter cork,
And you said, ‘pass the vinegar’
Source ofbeingfound
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