8th
oh, there’s the door. gotta go. bye robot foggy and carol anne-esque t.v. people- you are very much like loud orange and blue angel type beings with word fetish and strange patterns
you remind me of puddles
which i love
they are their own thing
and reflect as they damn well choose
dirty
and
sky
all at the same time
recurring
if seasons were counted by cloudy days
and
staring down at your feet
for the looking up
and
the others
and
eyes
that look like they want to steal you from yourself
whatever that is
or
ever was
to begin with