Sunday, August 28, 2011

to the witches that where killed...I don't believe in magic, only words.

life is a confection of differences.

to understand
personas at random-

and the jokes they read

play and

spin-onto a listener with
pushy mouths.

or why don't we read anymore?

to love the unlovable shoebox;
emptied

and searching...

filling its space in a day
and there is still the night to come.

disturbed

by the small that affects.

hungry for The Age of Stars to return.

No comments:

Post a Comment