happiness is a grave

And I intend not 
To be that kind of yes

But yes

Yes to everything 

Yes to nothing

Yes to you

Yes to me

Rain

Rai. Ran

The rain

Down upon baroque growth

Limbs of green 

hills 

Are a romance 

To humiliate

Man(un)kind's make-believe

Not busy with fear 

this great pretending called life

Little do. Fear you

Holding hands easy as breathing

Easiest breath

All We have to do to make shapes 

In such a night as this

"he could be defined by his make believe"

I am in Tennessee and

There is a tornado near by

I have to go to the basement

here is a growl