On this Effervescent Flame of youth I dine. On this scene of Youth And Madness. A Bacchanal There Let me marry Innocence Born From the Black Womb of Night, And Ushered Into this pearlescent morn Of light And sounds And love That are fruits Unto my senses http://sirmorose.tumblr.com/

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Turn away oh eyes, turn from this harsh terrain of truth: these hills swollen with grief. See the bluest of skies, and the clearest of pebbled streams, and too the verdant vales occasioned by the gentle hands of poets.

Chester

Skanking indecorously to the harsh rhythm for warmth, we were huddled there loosely in tough pride. The wind, the pale white monster leers, turns, leers, and turns, and then quickly pounces. We were dressed in ratty, tattered sneakers, brown and black and years’ faded jackets. A collective exultation of horror. The cold wind sinks itsContinue reading “Chester”