Wise things are coercive--
Blooming in fields lost to sons, bell-casters,
The flowers on the blue curve are a sign of a season
Shortening, having colored
The pink inner thrills on those
studious fingers feast on the
Such a world of lies--just listening will
Stop your heart.
Last season a fat baby rose from his cradle,
The lava-folds of his tender back to the field,
Unfriendly to the hands that made him laugh.
Traumafession:: Reader Clegane on Aguirre, the Wrath of God - Greetings from Ukraine! I’m a long-time lurker of your amazing site and want to tell my little story of Kindertruma and TV. I was eight and was alone at ho...
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