Friday 3/29/2013 01:16:00 AM

he would dance to the song of her corduroy lips. base conditions fermenting sharply. on the solvent edge of relative time. the surface frivolous with gravity. falling. always falling. choreographing his words to the rhythm of her hips.

the temple dim upon approach. threaded randoms for the ratio. simmering armies wear the conflict. in failing fires. steal the quark. in a tunnel close. measure destiny by the circumference of her throne.

the hour paints with fingers in the pigment. stained fists and trembling fingers beseech the images already drawn. the colors sprint. toward some distant finish. while we wallow in our outlines.

impotent gods rattle the sky. ripe with the science of dolls accused. seeing loudly in a silence of soldiers.

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