A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Cold, Gun Metal
What, do we (painfully, absurdly, stupidly, reckessly, dumbfoundly, all too damagedly) not know each other anymore? Love is a too relentless fallacy.
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