Homeless wanderer
my bohemian moon...

Gender?
was becoming unborn...

This was a perception defict
when only a suicide could stop you...

Life inside the doors?
mocks the nature...

A freak hailstorm of
proposition, makes you...

Put a candle under
the rose bush...

Like a stingray
you hurt. My chest heaves...

Have not crossed the street
in many years...

Mysterious weather.
You cannot breath in rose...

The sexless hiccoughs
have started...

An early bloomer:
you jumped on the otherside...

Make my path,
my dust. I want to leave...