Author Information
Fist
Only this rabid sea we float upon for all to see the waves of people jasmine haired and strange all wave all wave goodbye
Over this fiesta storm finds the fire the tempest of flesh and real things crumble into an old cold dust
Spite make right on a suburban night and our raged fist crumble into a cold rust
So many people die out of any flowers' sight
Treasonous anger hath no reason
No tears
No eyes
