

Broken Music BoxI pulled the stars over your comely eyes stretching my arms stiff until they covered your body blue. Its shadows were brave enough to keep us well hid for the shimmer gold in your hair beaconed all lovers lost. We found ourselves on a beach, whose sand I could not place, our bare feet sweeping the froth of the waves. The brightest stars as our guide led us to the end of a pair of sea docks and washed upon it a broken music box, wood crippling its age.Broken Music Box
I breathed into it [but only after you], and from it came a sound that played like the ballet. One which neither yo


Good Morning, WorldTheres noise lots of it and my ears strain to hear the excited shrieks. I roll over, groaning as the sheets knot against my body. An illuminated 7 AM greets me and I turn around, as if refusing to acknowledge the passage of time.Good Morning, World
Its Sunday. The words vibrate against the walls. My heart thumps. I can feel a patch of my skin warming from the sunlight screaming through my window.
Sunday, Sunday. His little feet patter down the hallway and I can hear his fingertips grazing the wall as he goes. Sara. Yes? I lift my head to see his eyes level


We are those who are walkingPrimed under indigo, right-wing sarcasm tucked into bed;We are those who are walking
fly, fly, shoe of steel. Master the several arts of Index positions. Secret duty of the burnt out flame, share your dying wish with the darkness that forced you under: untidy flash of photons
quietly illuminating an ever spinning set of fault lines. Two scissors left in the coffee pot to brew. A seraphim's diagrams for sneaking into the hottest jazz clubs in olde city. A pretty lady, dressed up, looks like she could be a dragonfly,
and I play along. We are those who are walking. Strides disguised by freaks and p
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I gave the green tentacle a bowl of wax fruit, and then joined his band
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i think its meant to say "I hope you have a good time!"
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