| |||||
| She Will Destroy YouIt is alleged in my temples that mine has arrived. In my neck it is alleged. Your horrid book I adored this morning alleges this minute mine has arrived, stellar, with fog careening, frauds of moon. In the crack and in the port: starry. In the little slum of the legs it is alleged. By abandoned prose, a nightlong tic, either eye knows it has arrived, astrose, and loathed- She smoked through pleas by the bougainvillea. Something flashed in the campanile's purlieu. Fiend so occurs to me, and cruel, and though I'm allowed no line to surround it, Affrightment. -Jeff Clark |
