mrshifu

we look through a window, trees and flora arranged to splatter into view; my heart a wet sloshing sound as words escape concave moments (in time to stumble, sunday lulling over continents and deepening oceans) the thriving wild, we think and feel contented but all cracks became canyons in a day— the day of register, when flooding faith melted an earth beneath our feet and we are more than just creatures, now