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anything that is, must bear light — transitory, translucent: perhaps, winged and conscious of space, mindful of turn, sizing down height. vertigo of all that, shining no ambivalence. this is the way my world will end: the room still reeks of sour mash — Pablo the dog, oblivious, marble-eyed, yet some pitch-black hound's awakening from steely sleep. the pages will fall flat on the doorstep unannounced— it is difficult to imagine angels. it is difficult to deal God's infinities. they are each to their own faults. heaven is meant to scar. still drunk in fearfully fretting butterflies tilted in slaughterhouses screaming ****** against the crowd. there will be no falsetto claim to sovereign — a drop D, e minor chord on the guitar, strumming, swimmingly discolored and only resounding.
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
Butterflies In Slaughterhouses Screaming ******
anything that is, must bear light — transitory, translucent: perhaps, winged and conscious of space, mindful of turn, sizing down height. vertigo of all that, shining no ambivalence. this is the way my world will end: the room still reeks of sour mash — Pablo the dog, oblivious, marble-eyed, yet some pitch-black hound's awakening from steely sleep. the pages will fall flat on the doorstep unannounced— it is difficult to imagine angels. it is difficult to deal God's infinities. they are each to their own faults. heaven is meant to scar. still drunk in fearfully fretting butterflies tilted in slaughterhouses screaming ****** against the crowd. there will be no falsetto claim to sovereign — a drop D, e minor chord on the guitar, strumming, swimmingly discolored and only resounding.
windsor-i-guadalupe-jr
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
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