highlights

i guess this is what
it this innit ; Burn up your
red threads!windscreams cinders
in your face
and smoke still swings up straight,
signals in the scleral shine i guess
this is wringing tears from cloth
and suckle
plasmid spit
lined on singed sleeves. i guess
the blurry morning sky
and candied dome is just so sweet
at filling in the blanks i leave
in every trail that blazed itself
or someone else retread and here
i am i guess this
is what,
i guess this is