yesterday I was viewing a dead woman's paintings they felt in a way that I don't really know how to describe they had vigor and some unusual sturdiness forethought some kind of slyness
they were free from criticism, regularities coincidences, banalities, grey hairs
yesterday I was viewing a dead woman's paintings they felt in a way like life was right at the door they had smallness and some celebratory feeling escapism fallen dreams
they were free from criticism, regularities coincidences, banalities, grey hairs
they lived, they speaked, they panted, grieved they flickered like fire arms full of open wounds they set the direction told to bury the urn where the sun don't shine where the dead woman is missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed
yesterday I was viewing a dead woman's paintings they had faith and some devilish hope bagfuls of love live and dead
they lived, they speaked, they panted, grieved they flickered like fire arms full of open wounds they set the direction told to bury the urn where the sun don't shine where the dead woman is missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed is the dead woman missed
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