The Poetics of Virtue

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

I did it out of love crying with butterscotch and found old cloth in my hand

Posted by Wren at 9:36 PM

(no title)

no human rights we're not human go feck yerselves
time travel

old memories and pasts rotate back into circulation when you have already settled their feel and currency all i remember was that i loved...
(no title)

all work and no play should be illegal
anarchy was never wrong, they cried Freedom, Rise Up For Me

i hated beating you at chess it's an evil tired game even among friends where you capture movements and positions like some sick tee...
bioshock poetry

well yer were supposed to fix a city in thee with a wrench and all these fuckos kept attackin you yeah? because why did they think it w...
Second Autobiography

What dances in a day is not nightfall, like my marriage to the Moon but made of lustre worn grey by clouds or spilling gold in your open ...
(no title)

a star has fallen and the people have come out into the street to watch her die in slow languor of flame's deep crackling fizzle ...
I want to leave here

you know when the "thing" at the cash register doesn't know tax mathematics and the "consort" is trying to thie...
Easter Sunday

you know, Easter could be a synthesis of burgoened gold milk in a pocket and held there like a bit of incense pinched in unerringly ...

Zelda. Picture Window theme. Powered by Blogger.