disonant authors spend their skin. in a tapestry of addictions. in a condition of confession. the bend in the horizon. as the sun cuts the darkness. the pale merger of touch. as it sweeps over the skeleton. a panic of blood in a desert of humanity.
the tepid mosaic. sparse souvenirs of when. like fragments of lightning. flickers of gravity. a panic of pleasures.
the wind spent her. pennies against the current. the simple monsters that wager this flesh. wind.
the dark took her. the dusty thieves that imagine our futures.
seldom choices let her fall. her decisions like cold evidence in a lingering trial.
the curious poisons. as stale as they've become. we wager the darkness. in empty needles and urgent corruptions.
kings in their faded robes.
Friday
4/01/2016 01:33:00 AM
Sad Labels:
acceptance
,
panic
,
retrospect
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