Ionad.

Icy thorns in kestrel snow, I gather them for you; plunging ire to your still desert, stave it in illness, black lilies incite the gallows you bring into the ladies of dust if the blood oceanid parts. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

I drown.

plains of bleeding flowers my dreams, as is, withdraw in catalpa’s mouth, death’s winged ozone, from white to yellow leafy bones a midsummer dream hence the sea of madmen to the locust ghost in a dying sunset mirrored the oeuvre and mind as I dream of the sea as I dream; guilt in eyes lay … Continue reading I drown.