Showing posts with label by Clerk Sparrow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label by Clerk Sparrow. Show all posts

серада, 19 снежня 2007 г.

The Hell

Smashed by moisture and one cold hand; trying to remember the name of Spain.

Floral scent and massive green eyes, grabbing hands and pushing, and flipping head both ways for secrets.

Then i went back caught out and made a buy. And now the 2nd hand, the same shiny and cold one, is still here with me and the painted toes, or whats left of them.

Just depth and floating in a sea of half-understood references to things no-one cared about much anyway and certainly not many knew of... missing another set of greens and hiccups.