We are the sons and daughters of the gloam.
Let us bask in our sanguine dreams, of majesty and travesty and everything else.
Archive for January 11th, 2008
What are you trying to do?
• January 11, 2008 •
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Nonfiction-Prose
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I wish the sky would fall on me.
Yesteryear will always be darker.
A thought to kill the draught.
You dance diversions and prototypes.
Censure measured in gold.
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