Third Eye Candy · Nov 2, 2012
The Maypole In December

a crisp jet of lavender lingers in the afternoon sun; drenched in milk-bone quiet and long stunning
ominous lungs, heaving an old cheese in a damp cave of lost reason.
undone.

you seem lovely.
untroubled in churning
dysfunction.

a cog in a wheel of misfortune.
with bells on.

 
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