Monday 19 July 2010

By moonlight they sing of me

Blood Bath

 

 

The tree spoke to me. It’s leaves crackled who was peering from windows to touch and pry secrets. In my bath, leaking blood dyes the warm water to a rosé glow. The appreciation of soft delicacy ruined by the thumping door but they are too late – she is saved.

 

 

Random Word: How long


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