23 September 2009

The story Of hannah opium patrica esther And Her attempt At revival

Woven threads of unbalanced dialect caw
to the clouds, to the dirt. He plays hurt, she plays the flirt and ambition is gestured into
a glass room, filled with spiders controlling
their marionette.
Question one held the answer
of her answer to his attempted suicide.
Answer two robbed his question of answerable
content, from which hawks would glide.
Question three was the answer to the third answer unrelated to his pride.
1. Blind.
2. Lust
3. Fire

Belated letters fell towards the sky as Eve Blossom
and her father, both adorned in webs, spoke.
Frogs bellowed at the oncoming traffic
which caused havoc upon their back street den
before Devour encroached structure.


Illiterate antaganism, moved behind I C posture,
eating nihilism then attempting measured envy.
Tartar enveloped radicalness.

Noise. Walls. Inspirations introduced to the
dot at the end of the traitor.
A never ending spiral of confused, idiotic readers. Bamboozled!
Engaging the water as it carries away each piece
of the jig saw - declaring it nonsense
but the ramblings of a talentless bug.
But, in the end, the silver spoon will choke
each senator as they burn pages of
said misfortune.

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