Free my every sad...
My realism lies lost, there amongst the melancholies mad.
How rare for flowers to blossom in the mornings frost.
Blessed hurt, dance with volcano’s spirit.
While my blood surge metallic, my love trails bleeds to dry
Let the molecules flow in all that hinterland.
We peep through hurt like rabbits jumping to escape gravity.
Reasons for being, clowns of actuality…