Print

Life's cornucopia, mouth all a'gushing green. Full, every feaster fades. Fog framed in rain. Sir, s'that a watch you wear? Ma'am, with your bird feather hair! You shells, you complacent snails Stoned, slumped and stale. Are you starving? This is a poison plate cooked by the face run numbered grinning gates. You can refuse, be saved. Would it be nice to buy some time to... sit and stare for days at stars and lights on satellites, your eyes going dry but never quite glossing over? Though shades of place may lose it's sight till your mindless, why not be timeless? Life's cornucopia, spilling out, spilling out From Letras Mania