She sits stooped elbows to knees she's pooped tired and pleading for fellows and hellos to stop leaving admired by those she never sees cause she only percieves what she thinks she needs to. Asleep in dreams while scheming the next tree limb to leap to perched she bellows and bleeds too stalking like the walkers on the street do. Consumed by desires of fleeting material doom and from the outside some loom waiting to see if shell wake and then be if the gloom shading her feet will lift abate and then leave a lit space for other mothers sisters and lovers to see.
There's this brother and he just throws seed into the wind he loves the lady limbs says he's clean his eyes are dreams for honeys to get lost in. He uses it abusin bitches Dipping his wick in every stitch that opens up to him. Slipping through the cracks of creeper status he looks hell in the mirror and asks what matters he's still alone surrounded soul tattered engulfed in his own traffic jam he realizes he's shattered friends feel like helping but the man is too scattered. And from the outside looking in the paterns aren't splaters the laughter rarely raptures and it's in those moments his soul seems to matter.
