Sleepy eyes, heavy heart, busy mind..

Photo by Arno Smit on Unsplash

South Sudan lyrics came into my drying pool of tears, oh, how thrilled I was to know, no self-sinking will ever take place again, referring to be present progressive a long walk through the shrinking Sur-Saharan forests that were never that green anyways but perhaps a teardrop to be licking and have the nothing + nothing to get to Corsica, where I could exchange a drop of sweat for a drop of oliveoil.
Is that one word or two?
Whatever, some cukoo nest threw a nut over my sight but I caught it on time, just before, just before, falling in love with tragedy. Blind, I am not, yet.