it's not my knuckles, but my eyes which bleed. shrewd configuration and schism breakfast. the hive leaves, but the throat is the weapon. orders are the sound of the thoroughfare. the vacuum which nature abhors, and the field of someone else's dream.
sugar, take flight. be somewhere else immediately, lest you get swallowed. splayed across some altar like so much religious debris. please make your escape, you earthbound angel. leave all us fools in your wake before we trap you within the cage of our propensity to raze the world around you.
it hasn't happened yet, has it? that time of configuration? when we configure history with equality?
sugar, take flight. be somewhere else immediately, lest you get swallowed. splayed across some altar like so much religious debris. please make your escape, you earthbound angel. leave all us fools in your wake before we trap you within the cage of our propensity to raze the world around you.
it hasn't happened yet, has it? that time of configuration? when we configure history with equality?
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