Sunday, September 28, 2008

PᏌRPᏝᏋ MᏫᏫᏁᏝᏐGHT


Purple moonlight dances in senseless motion. All the people are walking around stoned and with deep denial, havn't got a clue about tomorrow. She grew old and the wolf bursted into laughter. Your eyelids are resting heavily on your eyes and I'm pouring hot stearine all over your naked, pale body. The winds stroke by like velvet without making a sound. Your lungs are stuffed with smoke. The streets of Frisco creeps down my neck as we behold the graceful architecture of the orange camel. Licorice flavour bruised wounds everywhere you looked and you raised your voice. I don't want to insult the observer but still I stained its heart with dark glue. This futile words are trying to brake the hummingbirds bones while they're trying to magnify the other side of a mind. Illusions wrapped around in saltwater, burning spears are attending to resemble the old mans aching and yawning. Oh, sweet misery, drag me out of this hell even if it'd take both night and day.

2 comments:

Presencia said...

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Marit said...

Excuse me?