Launchorasince 2014
← Stories

in the morning on the bed at the land of dreams

the key is in my pocket, my fist covers the key,

this blurry breeze of snow, it covers my body.

it touches my neck, although there’s nothing i can feel.

and thus the melted silver, in my skin it does flee;

i opened my eyes, the blurry breeze away from me 


... 


regret(once more)...