I angered dust and robots
Wore lockets with dead friends' hair
Growing like waves or smoke
In the fabric house
The train hops towards the sorcery
And the fake Fatherland
Spills flies and totems
Hauls BrockStars by Teeth
Moulds abstract 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓
As sweet as jasmine
I saw the ink spread
Over the bed the faces mark masks
And hook down comet trails
Whilst the tombs of great trees
Open again for me and thee