white pillars rise.
A sleepy hand upon the snakey shod shoots
up,
up and fades out. A white mist high above and far below; in between
crisp greens and mulch browns,
well-worn paths.
far below, the sea.
-
- asklepiades (
asklepiades) wrote,
asklepiades
asklepiades
white pillars rise.
A sleepy hand upon the snakey shod shoots
up,
up and fades out. A white mist high above and far below; in between
crisp greens and mulch browns,
well-worn paths.
far below, the sea.
-
Let's just live it.
The quiet lies - we don't need to talk about it anymore Don't need to figure out the truth Don't need to look inside our heads and in our hearts…
-
(no subject)
I was wrong.
-
(no subject)
Everytime someone died. color and breath, the fast unfurl of carbon away from death plants that rise and grow, strange citybomb beneath…
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