freakish creatures are naturally unembarrassed of moss.
elusive, wispy, they are moved by an unwillingness to be stuck.
they will soften your harsh claims, embolden your bare tendencies-
such nonsense will ooze from their ears.
you may place them in lentic water, but they will always believe in dragons,
and they refuse to be clean.
their viscous spirit will doubt you until you navigate by pattern of fog.
they lack steady metals but do not crave them anyway.
they, heartstrong, may interrupt each other out of changeable nature.
they measure their mood by moon phases.
Full moon? Well, that explains everything.
Waning crescent? How terribly appropriate.
it will be tough for you to work into silence that you- severe- do not believe.
they fertilize with throwaway lines and peach pits because they dare so, and
you will never uncover the roots of the accidental plants they grow.
they will poison themselves before your eyes and recoil from your touch.
you will wither should you try to soothe their midnight sirens.
before forward movement, question.
are you prepared to see?
and
are you prepared to accept?
PLUTO BLOOMING 