Benoit Pioulard Brown Bess
o ye of many faces, whose stumbles seal the coffin a bloom to bring the latest cos trials shed too often in whispers fake an orchard, affection just like coughing belies the lately tortured; can't hide or make it soften the mask you kept eliding grows warped in its concealing its grin i fight abiding despite an endless healing this risk entails some chances; pulseflutters utter their name approaching through the branches, heatstroke blurs the barrel's aim ears ring
