Tuesday, 4 December 2012

Seasons

Flammable knifes pulsating through your lit tower regrets; kiss me Peirce me live in me I'm yours.

"when the cold rains kept on and killed the spring it was as though a young person had died for no reason." Ernest Hemingway

preferred idle eyes

started creating paperback  tears out of idle pen hands,  and look where it took us. i've encountered space between us but I've blur...