Death, Do Her...

you have it under my nose rubbed fruit of the land none bland sweet peas to apricots plums pitied paired what deliciousness transgenders transgression tongueless how did they do you is wasted blind on sleeveless worms who have no sense that taste of boiled dirt is death could you not call me to show her this lottery ticket that won your winds of reaping tearing pain joints seperated from plants blossom of spring just one 0 death who gnaws on eternity's woman is bones gratis 0 death we can broker deals that makes the strong draw back the bridge of winters snow to give all lost abandoned never claimed enigmas that drives your dream to harvest all plums in reapers reach.