Blog loving music poetry WRITING

well well well well well


feeling silk beneath bare feet i stopped to examine my steps. surprised was i to find my head resting on the floor near a bookshelf, the sensation of silk only a footpath leading me to my own hair. swaddled near my eyes were decades of literature floating in centuries of greek language, each binding molded over in dishonorable mention.

placing a newly picked bunch of flowers near my nose, the fragrance of madness is recognized and the vertigo on my lips drips with the flesh falling from my boneless hands.

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