bellgram
There once was a lawyer long ago, that loved to read his law books. He would read them twice a month, but only twice.
I can feel the powder white flesh of the grinder on flesh, but the bread is not yet baked. White fluff is what makes the sandwich wild and soaks up the sun as it burns down on the meat. I can even hear the mills winding down the Dutchman's valley.
She didn't mean to be so harsh when she stuck them in the box that was their prison. He had begged her to reincarnate him instead, but he didn't specify in what way.
So she brought him life.
Struck gold in those. Secrets are treasure found only in dark places and even then have to pried from desperate, embarrassed, ashamed hands.
Can you let go of your treasure?
He kicks the back of it hard with his smile and he loves to hear the bone break as she falls to the ground. Even better when he offers his hand in mercy.
She could look up into the sky and see the world. The sun broke through and smiled.
Its sharp and it bites. But a soft word in its ear and it goes loose and gentle. Breeze against your hair and a soft rustle of branches flowing overhead into an unknown world.
He looks down through the ice. The frozen thoughts of a half clicking mind. The joints are all that's left and even they are cracking beneath the weight of the sky. The freeze chunks past paradise and the fog warms the peaks.
She was the moon with the face of the tundra. So cold with the pale faced hate and so bright with the holy knowledge of the sun. There a reflection there, he thought, a reflection of sin and grace. All my dreams and nightmares wrapped in one.
It spirals out of control. Spindrels of spider hands grasping at the air, grabbing each handful of oxygen that it can. Breath in the fresh and cough out the carbon. Taking out our sin and purifying the virtue.
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