How's the day so far?

Busy.
Busy.

Apparently, yes.

But....
BUT
I am thinking of you,
and your hand in mine...

As we explore the woods. Ha.
Because I kept on asking you.
To walk with me.
This and that far.

And so we explore this woods that grows inside our head
with each passing day.

If I release you tonight,
will I feel better?

Will I see the ship I need
somewhere over there
and catch it
before the ocean
finally takes me in?

Poetry**
(n.) the luxury of having an awesome lover.

Aye aye, capt'n!

Capt'n eh?
I do look pretty stellar in boots and a pirate hat.
I could wear an eye patch,
but make it see-through,
so it would actually be sun glasses.

Why?
With sword,
and maps,
and chivalry
and oil lamps
and distant island.
God! You're enchanted.

If I fall asleep,
I will summon you to my dreams.

*Aye.
Wait for me near the train rails.
Or old shed.

I have deceived the fairies
and made a beautiful cage.

There,
in flame
and on the wreckage of the world we will dismember,

we will dance
and flaunt our hair strands.

The fireflies will sing.
The stars will fall.
All the flowers will perish.

We will eradicate the sun.
There will be no moon on summer.
We will swallow the sea.

Come closer.

Disappear with me.

The bomb has been planted was everything that he could think about that day** as he entered the door and locked it again. Its former occupants had migrated to Egypt, since then, only disappointment sleeps in the house.

Million inhabitants will die in that festival, including the elves and centaurs that came from the west. The fair was supposed to be a venue for recreation and alliance, a place where negotiations can be conducted and economic conflicts between the kingdoms can be settled.

But it has been planted and many lives will perish.

He crouched in one corner and noticed the peeling wallpaper – its edges bruised and forgotten and damped and dusty and bleeding. He folded his knees against his torn garments and enclosed his wings around himself and clasped his hands, trying to calm the trembling nebulas and screaming stars, but there is no escape from shattering.

The bomb has been planted.