Wednesday, April 23, 2008

bolzac's

drawers and petticoats, livid, languishing, dishevelled despair.
we care not, but for one thing.
that which keeps us whole; alive.
without which, a barren existence awaits.

revelries abound, we take comfort in guiltless pleasures.
past the rising sun, beyond the heat of noon.
throughout the quiet night.
the only noise, our own, and theirs.

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