Forthehoneytuned.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

The time that never comes.

Its suffocating.
Like a vast chasm of emptiness,
just draped over like a clammy blanket;
The inevitable languor of life.
Its hyptonising; yet it seeps to the soul.

My only escape of sanctity;
a ciggarette in hand and the stars.

spin the tale : 4:03 AM

NICHOLAS.

Marketing Man
071088

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