Friday, September 19, 2003

butterflies explode halfway through the guts. an oil slick coats the tounge as it pours from the back of the eyes. when we tatter through winds like shards of glass on strips of paste, than we can criminalise the language we've all agreed on. that of an unspoken bomb threat.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home