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.
Name That Trauma:: Reader Lorraine: on a Lady Running Around Screaming While Burning Alive - This has been driving me nuts. It’s been practically forever, and I still cannot find what movie this scene was from. It’s the only scene I remember from t...
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