let us pray this brief sleep is a ceasing to be-
ossified in the great depression of the mattress,
we creep in stony silence towards the false grope:
a fossil of a wedding preserved in midnight oil,
a chance at a gift of silver
in a instant turned
into a black and bleak palaver:
paper leaves that are torn but still not tarnished.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
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I love how you make me think. I love how I have to look some words up in the dictionary. I love how say something so simple in such an interesting way.
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