Driving south
only cactus go by
my skin hot, dry
peel of my lips
taste how sweat drips
melt behind this wheel
sink into surreal
this road to Mexico
slow air of black crows
circling death’s bones
poetry & things
Driving south
only cactus go by
my skin hot, dry
peel of my lips
taste how sweat drips
melt behind this wheel
sink into surreal
this road to Mexico
slow air of black crows
circling death’s bones