A rupturing, promising, hell-bent accolade.
The falling out between lovers ...
And the gut-wrenching fools of this night.
Your time here is almost done.
So cover the light under a paper-thin parasol ...
And the demons are sure to grace the fountainhead.
Still, fear drives us mad.
Laughing amid the distant crashes of emerald rockets ...
And the splitting sides of smiling crocodiles.
Whatever.
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 5:28 PM UTC
A rupturing, promising, hell-bent accolade.
The falling out between lovers ...
And the gut-wrenching fools of this night.
Your time here is almost done.
So cover the light under a paper-thin parasol ...
And the demons are sure to grace the fountainhead.
Still, fear drives us mad.
Laughing amid the distant crashes of emerald rockets ...
And the splitting sides of smiling crocodiles.
Whatever.
© Nicholas Laurent 2/3/2011
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