1 million spiders used to make golden capeHold host, frigidity1 million spiders used to make golden cape3 years ago in World Blindness Awareness
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And lost and found
And found itself inside of me
And would I want I could not have
The eyes to see off beaten paths
For beaten paths, familiar, flat,
And bruised by feet invited me.
And I obliged, caught like a child
On that trail long and weak.
A wanderlust, an endless mile
keeping just ahead of me.
Bites at my arms, sucking on my ring finger. A fountain. A cloud.
Walls collapse in fast motion. A city is built and decays, skyscrapers erected, lit, and felled in seconds like bars of light, one single sound, on a graphic equalizer.
A sustained explosion cuts through a man's face, each of his cells completely separated. Total ashes, no discernible scars or marks. A mountain of singularity.
Men climbing an ice flow's height and then tearing it down, melting snow and drinking it.
In the firelight they are huddled like Eskimos. Dinner is jerky and buckets of pure thawed glacier water. One of the men digs awkwardly in his fur lined pocket with a fur lined mitten
After the infromation war, pt. 3Shorely, you're Miss Taken.After the infromation war, pt. 33 years ago in World Blindness Awareness
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The lamb folds to collapse,
an umbrage covering it's frame. Time stop/
Quiet as the space between the planets,
a white hand reached out of a spring.
What hollow bodies we can be, as people. As these
babies in big skin suits,
stilts and bone, blood, scars, and brain.
I felt cold as a fortune tombed-up, riches buried with
the dead. Short fall, night fall, lies. Expect.
Something soon will happen.
I can see it in everyone's eyes.
I can hear it under the ground.