Fathom to give entry to new wounds. I rather be on the outskirts of all that vileness. If it’s purity at stake, I hope for bonafide and genuine. Sarcastic to the new wounds and all prayer is hope and mercy. Albeit, overtook into rhythm and whines and wine is a no go meant for no shows. I hope for something true to reckon the beef I’ve made with the universe. Being alone and knowing there’s small truth in a partner and such rarity. I don’t think it’s gonna happen.
petrichor - archive 