Dots

Purée

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Image: Dots in the ceilingsky
Photo by Alexôme

Every night paints a new picture into the sky. Intergalactic strokes spawn lightyears of envy. Dots are in oversupply, when you look up long enough. It is real, it is bluff.

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Image: Dots in the ceilingsky
Photo by Alexôme

The clouds mar the sky, the big picture behind my eye. Dots mix with dust and good-bye, when you look up long enough. It is real. Is it bluff?

Scars are left behind nearby; a painting is a battle, a choke of freedom follows each cry. Dots are unmoved by the surge to which i apply, when you look up long enough. It is. Is it.

Sprinkled neverends are famous allies, the women are drawn to the glitter like lusty flies. Dots mix with blue blows and semen oversized, when you look up long enough. It is.

Alexôme