Until it kills me...
A Random Collection of Death Inspired Ramblings
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Post One Hundred and Ninety Three: The Weather.
I have crucified you. I have stabbed you and hung you above the city for your action and belief. Instead of a tomb I have laid you out for the birds to make meaning from your insides.
The first topic to come to tongue, you are the weather.
Your signature sweating with hurt. Heavy and hot.
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