Roughly as poetic as a bag of smashed arseholes.







Scribble back.


Saturday, 9 October 2010

2. Midas

Each soul is but an imitation in passing
As if Adonis was swept down and removed life
But as a shadow, or a flicker, to the pyre  -
 Incomparable, untouchable - that is your flame
Like Midas, you touch;
Nothing you touch will ever be the same

Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)