desmarestia

when sewed upon dry sands or gathered a switch flips acid pours forth enough to scour rock while water's low

it's one thing to moulder like an inky cap and another to carve your name in living trees

I held you sturdy bore your sinuous grip let you take light from me that I used to receive

and now this warm afternoon became a century and my face all scars

first appeared in Lana Turner