Does the sun tilt for you?
Consume the picture and devote your soul to the steady ripple that gains to sever the line across time by which we communicate each letter. Never mind, they’ll say shock is better, who’s next as the dawn begins to weather? Dreams glance at me long sided every time I close my eyes. There is a storm here, in this cemetery. I realize I own the conscience, and I swear its clear but I keep seeing a grey and green hue every time I stare at the sun and look into the inside. I don’t want bodies over me; I’ve stood in the sea only to feel the motion of the waves upon me. Are we surrounded? Surely confounded by the quiet pause we take while exacting our revenge upon the beast? Don’t try so hard to breathe, we’ve been had, collectively, mouths open wide, desperate youth, blood thirsty babies.
The devils not a satellite circling—
Is this pain or ecstasy? Ascension inside—multiple minds—cross the street—fire and ice aren’t devoted to destruction [tonight].
