Oct 08, 2009 17:53
The waning green the staining sheen the part of it left thoroughly. A breadcrumb trail between each veil of lava flowing evenly. By this logic, clipped nails of kings on scale with queens and tipped-hat greetings. Elevated meetings in scenery marked by
The blood in the shed, the shape of sin in canister.
A parade down the banister.
Where the rope makes a shadow, mistook for a gallows.
The waning steam and staining gleans the partly lit camaraderie, from the clenching of fists and the trailing-off wisps letting in the hum of electricity.
Turquoise Hexagon Sun