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| Likur | Jul 12 2009, 09:26 AM |
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Frogs and Penelope (a title of something yet to come)
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Deeply apologizing for double posting: in the gnawing quiet the thermometer spits mercury, its color our blistered skin and bleeding fantasies strewing the streets in glass shards and oil stains. with the remnants coating my lungs, the calming fragrance of the cigarette you clench between your cracked lips a circumvention around the lament of the spiraling paper satellites as they farewell their former harbor, choked in begrudging blackened splinters that claw our ankles like ghosts of wounded memories emerged from their coffins in the charcoal relics of the riot fires that the hoses could not sweep away though they took our childhood, so we turned with frozen shoulders on the vanquished folk in hopes we might someday respire. Edited by Likur, Jul 12 2009, 09:28 AM.
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'People want to know why I do this, why I write such gross stuff. I like to tell them I have the heart of a small boy... ...and I keep it in a jar on my desk.' 'Both Rowling and Meyer, they're speaking directly to young people... The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn. She's not very good.' - Stephen King | |
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| the hush · Poet and Songwriter's Handbook | |
11:03 PM Nov 28
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11:03 PM Nov 28