Post by r h e t t » eh. on Jul 11, 2006 20:09:46 GMT -5
keep your thorns i'm running away
the eerie glow of a gaunt, forsaken belle, the Moon, tread its way hxllward, caressing decayed limbs of the barren fugitives to rest rest firmly upon the cast down foliage that jeweled the coppice floor with a grim likeness to deadened buds cast to a mirroratic aquilla to float until their hue was utterly spent against the current of dihydrogen monoxide.
running away from the head games
the sopranic chime of an equid's gait falls, defeated by the muffling power of the dead leaflets, becoming naught but an airy crackle amid the chasm. beraggled claws lay claim to the same corpse, marring its hide in a sort of tease, displacing the fibres in a way that suggested rebellion against oneself.
the f'in head games
the mass of equidade sinew posed a retaliation with a stunning fit of malice wraught against the daggers of the wood. unleashed alabasters mutilated the sappy appendages with apparent ease, adding twigs to the varied composition the adorned the heightless. an arrogant sneer found the beast's mask, contorting it to reveal its angst demeanor.
only in a world so cold
and yet, one might've thought this hue of iron and granite was a meek harlot, like all others. oh, how wrong they were. this was Acetiar, demoness of the unkempt hxlls.
only in this world.
