He turns away from his work; in the unfinished mirror, hats float
Tags: poem by Gene Myers
(via opheliaswims)
pruebame:
bonjoursalope: SourceĀ bigboobsparadise.com
bonjoursalope:
SourceĀ bigboobsparadise.com
I envision a stream running from your head. Does it possess those stars? Can I fish in it?