I have not known Shams or oil wells in my living room. No inheritance, nor near death experiences. My blood is mixed and I am broke in some places. I have so much confusion I can’t find words. Things to be ashamed of? Or Light Houses on my way? Honestly, I can’t tell you the
There is a sound a flower makes slipcracking deep larynx grasp new life levels split tender finely fierce she bears the beauty of reflection she cries does what must be done recedes to more only quiet and unknown thus far destined for greatness
I can walk down streets in new cities or be in a stadium waiting for the concert to begin and I see your face and I feel I know you and you and you and you Do I know you? I must — we are One, after all. I know I know you. I imagine
chaos is certain certain is chaos is chaos certain certain chaos is
