three-sigma
Beauty too valued
Order too. Lustily
My mind breaks
Dashed upon preceding,
Receding
Foundations
It is with great guilt
That I recommend
Volcanic redistribution
Deluge of pyroclastics
Like the plastics
In the belly of
The world,
Crying out for mercy
Mercy
Like or as
The willow's tender touch on my
Temples. of time,
of space,
and everything between them
Before it burns up, immolation-style
How could we
...
How could we not?
Posted by Hans Andersen
|
at
1:36 PM
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