The lightning when it comes
is like a day switch, flickering.
I sit out in the smell of wakened dust,
under the threat of trees, laughing
at the lengths the light will go
to show me everything.
Telling: Streams & Logs
Telling: Streams & Logs
The lightning when it comes
is like a day switch, flickering.
I sit out in the smell of wakened dust,
under the threat of trees, laughing
at the lengths the light will go
to show me everything.