Faded rose skies Blushing with the anxious jaundiced pallor of a skinned peach, Exposed, waiting, cease to breathe. Waiting for the world to stop, Waiting for the purge of poison-laden
Chipped nails, seeds of anxiety, warm glow of pre-sleep. Small bubbles of microcosms, Floating to the surface, Full of unplumbed depths Full of what could have beens, what should have