Loki Wyrd Posted March 7, 2005 Report Posted March 7, 2005 Charcoal smeared faces stare out from the canvas. Expressionless. Paltry meals taste like their day’s labor, deepening their hunger. There’s no desire. No bounty. Nothing to take away with them.
Loki Wyrd Posted March 7, 2005 Author Report Posted March 7, 2005 Needing isolation to grow, I find myself rooted to the roof. The sunlight washes over my eyes so that all I see is the blue sky above--portentous expanse holding me upright. I am unafraid to call to you; I only fear your answer.
Zadown Posted March 7, 2005 Report Posted March 7, 2005 I like the second one - it tastes like summer, real and metaphorical.
Loki Wyrd Posted March 14, 2005 Author Report Posted March 14, 2005 The Substrate of Humanity Words, in all their complexities and subtleties certain to differentiate, and yet so meticulously interweave; sought by fibers, silently colonizing.
Loki Wyrd Posted March 27, 2005 Author Report Posted March 27, 2005 (edited) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Furrowed in a bed of hair, lachrymose thing of wan appeal, saturated by glabrous stares lunging for their dollar's worth. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Edited March 27, 2005 by Loki Wyrd
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