Warning: Amphigorical Content!

grubby grists of euphuistic prolixity

Sunday, 13 June 2010

Last Border

The march-land gate's steel fingers clutch at servants of the wind
who through the mono-chromed eclipse now see their creeping shorelines limned
No sentience though, to feel the pain of worlds being slowly skinned
Posted by Philip Damian-Grint at 19:11
 
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