Flowers crawl my Ancient face… .*

wet Roses....wild briar....blood oranges...just beyond the blood.....
we have a need for yellow flowers at our ankles...and the moon at our back like an oval crown of soft and faceless pussypink glassen shell...we need to touch dry wood....have our face frozen strawberrie by water...we need to get sick under the Sharp Sun like rusty knives and broken guitar strings kissed for the songs they brought joy to....everybody counts and when i come across this board black
                                                    i
                                       will                  crawl

                                                    at
                                      y             o             u

like a black widow motherfucking spider and...........

kiss
you until
your
eyes
melt
like
Hollywood
1940
death white frosting.... ... .......