local 606

survival version 29.12

the girl looks for solace in a christmas
light. and respite is nothing but
a sweater lately. she touches daily
things: the pair of boots, a set
of keys–she shakes her face in
hands, and the images
out with the eyes,
sealed through. as a castle gate is pressed
with iron, groaning to the ground. it would
take hosts, to reach her now.

saturnalia claws

 

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This entry was published on December 1, 2014 at 3:57 pm. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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