Underground, hell's door locked with a living human key
The walls are veined with liquid ire, the floor with treachery
And as I seek my fortune there, compound my misery
To find the face of Midas as he blindly touches me
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It never fails to disappoint...
Warning: Amphigorical Content!
grubby grists of euphuistic prolixity
i think i prefer a.a.milne
Recycling
An occasional attempt to use up those spare words left over at the end of each day.
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2010
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April
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- Desperation
- Less Fortunate
- House of Sand
- Seeking
- Skiving
- Visitor
- Treasure
- Assault
- Winter Blossom
- Lycanoculus
- The Church
- AC Units
- Wall Flower
- Holiday's End
- Jilted
- Hearth
- Snapped
- Whence
- Precursor
- Speck
- Afternoon Nap
- Unwindowed
- Midday Flare
- Friday Night Bus
- Sight Unseen
- Unrescued
- Reckoning
- Chestnut Tree
- Traffic Lights
- Redressed
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April
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