Mar 032016
 

like the staying air that broadsides the moon, in times of delight only forward do the sorrowful feet of fallen soldiers march towards infinity.

like pilots in the blinding black of night, these are the portly bellows of nature that dictate the ruin of our time.  delighting in the misery of outsiders howling towards sunshine like vultures.

keeping the time.  keeping the time.

 

 

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