| 1st Jun 2012✧09:07369 notes |
After dipping His wand
In the soap, sometimes
He merely waves His hand
And strings of bubbles appear
Like galaxies in deep space
And are blown in wind
And chance throughout
His neighborhood;
And sometimes He breathes
Through the circle of
The wand and bubbles
Come to life and string
Through town, some
Popping early—grass broken,
Some winging, disappearing.
He makes this one slowly,
A special bubble.
There comes a membrane
Prism that brightens its skin
All colors, red, blue, yellow,
Magenta, that slip over
The globe as rainbows,
Pulsing, moving, changing,
Alive. As it ages, the colors
Weaken and the skin frays,
Tears, and the bubble pops,
Flecks of soap shed mortality;
And His breath joins breath;
Emptiness joins emptiness.
Steve Fortney
I AM THE QUEEN THIS WRETCHED WORLD DESERVES!
I guess this is around the time of my life where people I thought were cool but not necessarily attractive are now all grown up and hot.
:-/
| 31st May 2012✧09:393,091 notes |
| 31st May 2012✧09:2875 notes
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| 31st May 2012✧09:28 |
| 31st May 2012✧09:276 notes
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| 31st May 2012✧09:276 notes
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