mad ones and zeroes are in my head and at my fingertips. the tips that touch the thorns of every girl that passes. just to feel the prick, just to use the fluid as ink. to document the narcotic bliss of every flower. to be pulled inside and let it sink in. your place is not hidden and not a secret, there is a thousand paths that lead to it’s entrance. i could fall into every one of you and get lost in your depths. i could never find your end, because you don’t have one of those. where are the ones that tend to your flora and fauna? do they not visit every night and day and taste the buds that are so sweet with dew and yesterday’s sunshine? how do they have a garden so wet with rain and not steal away every moment, inside its walls. not on top or below but inside. to be swallowed whole by the spaces you hold in your mind, in your heart. in the places that are not secret, yet no one seems to find. i want to lay inside you forever, in your grass and earth that soaks up the sun and moon and stars. you blossom with a simple touch. let me die inside of you and let me live there if death never comes.