

Death is a Soviet BallerinaRehearsal. Dance, and maybe bow. (and how!) Entrance the sycophants. Universal trance demands romance-Death is a Soviet Ballerina
subsequent shroud that deflects the crowd genuflects arrogant nod to God. (Defiantly. Disquietly.)
Membranes are broken. My black-wrapped legs, distract some pain unspoken thrown to dregs, notions of broken powder kegs.
Soviet source of choreographed terminus "Exterminus? So be it," laughed coarse and hoarse contorting marionette.
Regret?
--
"What a splendid head, yet no brain." Is this really what the world is coming to?
--
klaha thinks he's a ghost...
prints
peace in AMEHIKAAAH!
--
~Dream is Destiny
Previous PageNext Page