Monday, April 18, 2011

It whistled past me. And, I stood there, all alone, and a little confounded by it all.
Let me die in my own footsteps. 
I have been gathering my hemlock, drop by drop. One day, when flowers would scream into the ears of a frosty winter, I shall drink it to thee.

3 comments:

Peripat(h)etic said...

This is sooooooooooooooooooo beautiful!!!! So painfully beautiful....i wish i could give you an image for this....

GoldFish said...

And doth thy ghost see you too?
Maybe thou needs to look elsewhere for less shocking images.

GoldFish said...
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