kobold k

pitted jam, aerated yogurts, and orange pekoe perfections: the Trinity of this Peach Flower Imperium! Grandmother's young bones rattle afterwards celebrating this mesmerism and pixie perplexity; I also hear her swear like an angel in sweet vinegar baths.

my sideways glance at a half-nibbled resin puck drooping from the canopy of sun-snagged, moss-molested old growth wonders; on the ground clover clatters, meadows make melody, and the last rain of Fall dreams.

Earned the Crisp as Day (Level 7) badge!

Green-gum herbs pressed into thin hay-structured soaps; A pepper drizzle shakes match heads awake, who respond with contemplation of compromised woodsy interludes where naive leaves shudder and leftover stumps rumble.

Tobacco structures crumble under rough-edged gravity hammers; Chocolate birthday archives order black candles and soggy cards anticipating a pathetic Rapture that will rupture our carousing.

Orange grains creak open for an admittance of Easter optimism as her cheek, dappled calm, presses against Spring and cures, with a few gentle thorns, the mould in Winter's temples.. Honey scum and curlded butterfly milk are disturbed for April's entrance.