phenomenalism

secrets cling to tree trunks like cowards whose lies can’t be hidden by leaves and clouded words. we climb and fall, impoverished by knotted pines and unusual fascination with companionship. embodying the indefinite gift of tongues, kisses becomes an infallible discourse in fruitful perception. one season manufactures many and though lips should have delivered comfort, they were loathe to break and speak.

Here we stand, in misplaced liberty amongst earnest efforts detached from originality. nature transitions, inexhaustible in her provocation, she lies without speaking before turning white with innocence and clear intention; hiding warmth for the sake of inspiring growth.