dancing in the deep down dramatic, lulling lays of Lana Del Rey—
a quill on its snow-white then tainted-black ground and a flooded, brimful head on its space—
till the airhead wakes and weeps and wails.
A late post here, gotta admit that I still feel frustrated and mad at myself that I am unable to write lots like some of my friends. They are able to write long, gorgeous pieces even from the simplest of words.