Molotov Cocktail
i can always smell love coming
like spirits
buzzing
on the breath of a woman
who's licked the wick of a fire bottle
burning napalm in the night.
the smell of burning always set us on fire.
“I have lost my dewdrops!” Cries the flower to the morning sky that has just lost all its stars... All bleeding stops eventually. I am but a collection of particles, atoms that chose to suffer in unison.
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