asklepiades (asklepiades) wrote,
asklepiades
asklepiades

from the vine last night.

Mice will follow you
          home tonight
because the stars are oh,
          so bright
my shoes taste just like
          snowflakes
your eyes are shiny, just
          like lakes
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  • (no subject)

    I was wrong.

  • (no subject)

    Everytime someone died. color and breath, the fast unfurl of carbon away from death plants that rise and grow, strange citybomb beneath…

  • (no subject)

    Bloomed in the fall, I loved you in the winter. When summer came the world was dead and cold.

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