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the driven snow is driven bleak and swirls of ghastly gorgeous swoon in the nubile gossamers   of undulating mist. she is completely mad. thought she saw a cat perched in a quails beak... singing cordial grimms in a hologram of dead love. what are those petals in the iris of infinity ? are they her soft hands, or papyrus ? a sheet of hot winters, crinkling in the twilight smelling of whale song and apple sauce, her hair in a braid of ravens.
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Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 5:57 PM UTC
HECATE, THE YOUNGER
the driven snow is driven bleak and swirls of ghastly gorgeous swoon in the nubile gossamers   of undulating mist. she is completely mad. thought she saw a cat perched in a quails beak... singing cordial grimms in a hologram of dead love. what are those petals in the iris of infinity ? are they her soft hands, or papyrus ? a sheet of hot winters, crinkling in the twilight smelling of whale song and apple sauce, her hair in a braid of ravens.
third-eye-candy
Written by
M/American
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 5:57 PM UTC
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