Listen to the beacon’s sad melodics. Smoke shifts behind a warm stone wall. Leaves think, think, think their tree to life. A buzz saw states the obvious while a podcast host pontificates. And do you need me to shift more into your account for a nuclear submarine? Dreams colonise my brain and then defend their turf. I could wake and claim it back again. But, hey, what’s mine is yours.
independent
indepedent
indepedent
indepedent
indepedent
shallows
shallows
shadows
delight
delight
delight
delight
delight