oblivion, June 7, 2018, 16:00:01 – 16:03:41

the spider’s web glistens like the down on a branch in the sun.
the ghosts are breathing our air.
when the rain drowns out conversation.
with neck and no more, crop and never again.
the boundaries are not clear.
rilke thought dragons were princesses, not the other way round
the dental fence must be maintained.
one can be moved to tears by one’s own thoughts.