drift
These days, the sun makes its entrance like egg yolk in milk. Smears itself across the sky, creamy. I know this, because my body clock is attached to the dawn, it’ll shift and rumble as the sun appea…
These days, the sun makes its entrance like egg yolk in milk. Smears itself across the sky, creamy. I know this, because my body clock is attached to the dawn, it’ll shift and rumble as the sun appea…