Dance in the Full Moon

O, the Frailty of Memory

Saturday, January 12, 2013

1.12b

Heavy and horrible: he hefts and heaves until I halfway shamble from a placticine tube. He's hankering for hope, but he won't have any from my hard corpse. He's hysterical, having hoaxed the last few moments of a hallucinated life from a harpy he, hapless, has.

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