Both strength and escapism lie in between your half-spaced dreamy lines of hope, decay and alliterations.
Thursday 11 December 2014
Nocturnal Stream of Unconsciousness III
My throat is dry and my eyelids heavy Will you be the Holy Water That drains death Lingering over the remains Of sanity? Can a sip of you Reanimate dying cells And vanquish gloomy thoughts?
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