Daniel Steverson

The Blackening White Daniel Steverson

So They Tell Me The trees tell me-I only have sensories of outreaching beyond my boundaries of complacentcy. Freedom I see once I flap my wings of trusting the basic instincts even though there's a possibility the tree branch breaks modestly of having high self esteem. It's along way down the rivers stream drowning; no life jacket or lifeguard for rescuing just bowies in the deep blue sea; bungy jumping from the limbs onto the concrete constantly like scrambled eggs unjustly prophesying sunny side up astonishing-the hunchback is acknowledging he can now use the oxygen that's always been there since mocking sins and virgins in the garden. I beg my pardon- the skys tell me they've removed the margins so that I can broaden my horizons; so tall as the animal cage projects.