Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Act 1. Scene 4.

Cotton-candy cloud love
We are the lavender smelling sound, love.
In the deepest gulp of air, I am crying, "love!"
Itching and breathing, dying love.
Unearthed.
The taste of heat, like summer air.
Orange-green afterglow.
Dreamers often lie, says the prophet's mystic soul.
Stretch my love, have your wishes.
Love doesn't ask for much, and yet it does.
but, in bed while they're asleep was the gazer's reply.
Darkened roots, sweet crimson fruit.
Depth and darkness, paradox.
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