Rejoice With The Day Lily For It

My Mouth Blooms Like A Cut.

I Imitatea Memory Of Beliefthat I Do Not Own.

The Future Is A Fog That Is Still Hanging Out Over The Sea, A Boat That Floats Home Or Does Not. The Trade Winds Blow Me, And I Do Not Know Where The Land Is; The Waves Fold Over Each Other; They Are In Love With Themselves; Sleeping In Their Own Skin; And I Float Over Them And I Do Not Know About Tomorrow.

For I Could Not Read Or Speak And On The Long Nights I Could Not Turn The Moon Off Or Count The Lights Of Cars Across The Ceiling.

Yesterday I Did Not Want To Be Borrowed But This Is The Typewriter That Sits Before Me And Love Is Where Yesterday Is At.