i used to fear the turn of his eyes like in a plane nose down hurtling towards the sea white knuckles and white white white, the color of terror, the terror of the end. i know i should fear it again but it feels like crack, white white white, soft cloud of heaven, the bliss of the end.
The imposing mass of ice before me jutted out from the horizon, piercing the blue sky with its craggy edges. Tempered by millions of years, the recent melting wedged ever-widening cracks into the perfectly
i used to fear the turn of his eyes like in a plane nose down hurtling towards the sea white knuckles and white white white, the color of terror, the terror of the end. i know i should fear it again but it feels like crack, white white white, soft cloud of heaven, the bliss of the end.
The imposing mass of ice before me jutted out from the horizon, piercing the blue sky with its craggy edges. Tempered by millions of years, the recent melting wedged ever-widening cracks into the perfectly
Cold mountain, frozen sky, cracks of blue and wild wind, silenced by snow, sharp, bright white under a cold sun