Yep, this is f'ing cool as hell! Some of the ideas and images really kill - especially your thought-built lair and your quenched yellow suburbs. Keep writing, this is really good stuff.
Gardens bask on top the soil of earth, aging feet dig into cool dirt. Brain matter and substance ache, rightly thinking his thoughts, his head shakes. Iris positioned correct on subject matter, ear affixed on the air and leaf clatter. Length-wise legs stretch from pelvic bone to foot. July has been bled dry like the wealth of a crook. A secret hiding somewhere, meanings dense like logograms. Entire weeks spent in a thought-built lair. Secrets stitched into his heart, ever waiting, wanting, truthful heart. Dead leaves will soon fill the yard. Wandering the quenched yellow suburbs, as time bends back into itself it seems. Ready for autumn and the devouring of metaphysical themes. Distant world is calling, new life shall begin; still a small, faint lulling behind his charming grin. |
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Comments 1 to 3 of 3
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