handshakes in forms of wings conveying hope in the everyday our language isn't broken phrases but limbs of speed holding each other up from the grounds mud deep in caged parks
when in my minds box darkness is my illuminator and you are the one that can see from outside limbs in limbo over the hyphen bridge, the thin gap road to my assimilated mind floating and afraid of heights please, come back to me bring me back
living in the land of opportunity gets you fat either you get indigestion or you slowly lose your taste and everything becomes bland which is ok until you eat spice and curse the cook out acid builds bubbles and pops