Tabletop salt practices. Acting like yourself, “acting”. Containment; coin the words with a grin. Soaked in smoke-lit reversals. Green, Yellow, Red… STOP YOUR BREATH This is official Project Astral poetry -Raphael Baldaya Smoke
Time Machine Poetry
I found a memory underneath a piece of wallpaper; it peeled into a capability of everlasting motion.
Cornerstone brow, ships clasp, stutters mountain… Lands.
Backdrop, vacant patterns.
No, the substance isn’t in that formation or the fertility of the ghouls.
Tear the cloth — induced love picked a corner to turn into a fairy tale.