Breathing in the fire, volcanic ash swollen lungs, thick as fresh honey combs, buzzing like a red hive within the wild wind. Lost world pressing the firm earth with quiet feet, but tough enough to run inside the sun, cracked, like broken dinner plates, footprints in rich coffee coat soil, breathing everywhere in one direction. A girl looking to a woman looking world with broken eyes shows the radiances: dreams that faded, dreams that caved, into reality the weight the vacancy. Tunes of vapors tranquility of salvation on hiatus. New. World. Order. The virus of language, pages and pages of giant prayers from a tiny heart shriveled and guilted from the mass murderous burden of cold cavalos love lost in the spiraling conspiring dark.
