take my hand and climb with me…

forty eight degrees: ‘with glitter and some glue…’

Patterns of Fairy Tales ~ The National

forty eight

Ouroboros chokes upon his tail, irony’s great metallic sea. Reappearing, you demand fuel to feed the flame. Contempt reflecting, his. And hers. Impotent twins, fury’s sour sanctimony. Memories, saved from the last pyre. Gold whisper box, ancient precious things. Queen of Hearts bow, knotted DNA. Sealed in lighter fluid, legacy of fire. I refute the stake, refuse to burn. Again. A tempered heart, inflammable.


Blood remembers where to go…

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This entry was posted on November 17, 2012 by in Spring and tagged , , , , , .


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