i built a pile of leaves to live inside there's a foliage for this melancholy or a least a color scheme. you said the trees on your street are turning red. i stole their leaves for a front door. what will you do with your nesting nightmares? i'm going to tiny-house myself into the next decade. soon i'll be eighteen days old & the sun's roots will have done their work. i'll be stuck on earth with the rest of you. i feed on nothing but dampness. leaves stuck to my skin. collage-girl. do you see a man's face in my chest? is your stained glass ripe? the rake in the yard snapped in half under all the gendered pressure. he wanted to wear his mother's heels but now he harvests dead leaves from the back step. a dress is always a possibility. what do you know about fire escape routes. i'm hoping mine will save us from the seasons change. we need a thicker moon if we're going to make it without any government assistance. my grandfather built steam engines & a leaf stuck to his heart before he fell off top a ladder. very few people are lucky & we should pin them down & search them for green. i am prone to falling. i once snapped a bridge in half. you should go on without me. my house will soon blow away. just the furniture standing in the middle of Pennsylvanian forest. i'll be nowhere to be found.