Plato's TurtlePlato strokes the spiny turtle with a fibrous rake near a city street.Such a pleasant tool smooths its textured shell, and the turtle accompanies Plato along his way.Plato walks about the forests and frozen lakes, endlessly inhaling the winds and smoke.The spiny turtle steps upon the shoes of certain who pass by, including a corporate executive's toe.In fact, a child stumbles beside Plato, scuffing slightly against his Brooks Brothers suit.And noticing the sudden action, the turtle snatches away a finger or two, and stained becomes the cobblestone.
Sweet Catherine MadelineMy name is Sweet Katherine Madeline, a daring charmeur of eight years existence, I have seen only the finest and sucked dry all the tears, not once have I met a man with utmost persistence.I own but one shop on the corner of Liddel, I sell and bake sweets with a price of an evening, I am but a youngling with the soul of a devil; it was Monday the world flopped and one entered my path.A tall shadow he was with stick-like fingers and class, oh, how I powdered my face when his eyes graced the fine treats, he pondered for a moment and asked for a mere apple tart; with hearts in my eyes I presented three sweets.The following evening I painted his portrait, for my memory is precise and his face was divine, as a medium I used my blood and crumbs from tarts; in my limbs I carved hearts with a vow and a price.Only one day did I see him until the month of May, although, I dreamt of his glare each evening and morning, I dreamt until the time of foreclosure arrived; he walked past my dying sho
Questions and DetailsEmerald songs ripple without dampened patches, as stones lie gravely within tearless snow.Such calamity pays without confidence and withdrawal, such equality slumps without a notion to flow.If I were a speck of purest diamonds and ice, would I remain as such, or instead melt within redness?Redness which may contain breaths of carbon and silver; such droplets are pitied, for their travels remain breathless.Yes, it is I who sits upon frozen, silenced needles, the purest piles of self-confidence sunken within a cosmic place.Necessities are the passing forms of trial and persistence; my grains of ashen, lunar winds drift throughout an eyeless face.
Thoughts and RottingA clockwork scenario of terror's introductions floats within the unconscious sheep.Hastily and without knowledge of plentiful cleanliness, such gasses are drained through cracks which creep.Along follows vibrant dosages of blackened ignorance and solemn grace.Held in pill shapes, simple pill shapes; each remains within a stretching face.Calmly, three lovely flowers, calmly they shall ingest the suggestions which freeze.'Twas guarded such ices of plagues and pressures; further upon slivers you are left to the breeze.And lastly, although, never softly, judges a translucent pen lacking metallic ink.Observation silences such with tongues; a plea slowly rots, as petty minds to think.
Factories, Falls, and FiendsA pocket of picking piles to ply brooches from; the old woman begs to exchange her tongue for a daughter cased within a factory of infant candy, alas, she smashes tender heads within my factory, and I shan't give away such a lovely specimen of doubt.Inside and Outside grip whispers of maddened toys and trinkets, sold are they to Clock and Whirl, your slices and shops of twitching happiness, my children of moons and somber lights.Do not speak as if the bells toll in midnight summers, a ray of mindlessness defies you as I command so; beneath the mahogany table without a pretty face you linger, doused in coloured liquids without an expression or thought of progression.Hold aloft and praise my grand jaws of silver and ice, I demand you, ingest my capsules of sweetened formaldehyde and become one which you are not; I must place you into a bath composed of plastic air, please lie upon the skinless floor with your intestine-filled teddy bear.And now I bid you Adieu with a smile and contai
Earthly WastesWill you not observe the child who swims within the frozen sand; its eyes of stained silver have not selected you for a whisper of doubt?Its tail sways across the wastelands of civilization, such places which remain still and clouded, though, also filled with freshness of the cold; the natures of such places are without a droplet of bothersome distinctions, instead, serenity grazes without mercy on the unfortunate.A wasteland which others wander about is not wise, such a child has not a voice, but instead a glare which is kept through its mind, an influence by translucent waves, a simple smile or scratch upon the slightest flesh.Its loving nature causes countless to drown within the desires of their own downfall, such wishes and wills are not deemed necessary throughout existence as a whole; weak-minded are the child's 'victims,' they are without knowledge of the voids.To drown by the grasp of innocence is indeed entertaining for those who remain ignorant, not a sound is created no