bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Thursday 17th April 2008.

It only held water,yet my glass is empty.
The crows starred in silence,they are full, sated on dead bodies,they stalk on witches fingers still in slumber,the wind howls,yet the trees do not listen,do not yet want to release the beauty within.Jack frost has the biggest winters cock in his mouth and does not want to let go,does not want to share with summer blues..i cannot blame him for would i share a giant cock.However i do want summer to cum rapidly,repeatedly jerk to the fore in sunshine sperm, hot warm runny all the colours of white sperm portrays.
The crows still stare in silence.Their eyes sparkle in death so much death,not even the pink fingers of new born's i have glimpsed this week take away the dark thoughts..i have glimpsed shadows and far to many coffins for one many shocks of visions of health once even far to many for the crows to utter amongst the sparse tree tops.
I was reminded to day of Dylan's...Hard Rain...

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