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she is a vase of roses

pale incandescence, her brain is flowers & chaos. a happy-sad madness like jazz— "run your fingers through my mind. explore me, neck up." beauty is forever if you know how to look. and she knows how to look. where to look. her raw honey is a displaced aphrodisiac amidst a sea of refined synthetics. she is never land. a thin little crepe, like paris in spring.