Chill. This is an icy sheet of paper; words melt before they are completed. A certain discipline must be retained or time will be deleted. It will have disappeared like so many hours that cannot be recalled from other thin shimmers of memory. One scrapes for images to plaster incongruously across... Sign in to see full entry.
C.C.:
By C_C_T - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Poetry
About this Blog
Searching for it.
Recent Entries
Blogs
Previous: (No subject) - New Entries - Next: (No subject)