A Luxury for Dreamers.

bort

This weather introduces poets to the narration of Armageddon.
Sadly none of the muses will be left to brag of their claims. Beauty dies with and from humanity.

This grants a complementary illusion to dissonance.
Celebration majesty as I pick freckles off Amelie’s earthenware
Glinting like borts in the overcast.

Expanding income joy to break knick-knacks stationed
On glass shelves
Inside a mind which contains no stones.
Smoke screen composed of perfume
Victimizing the scents of tomorrow’s rot,
Silhouettes become disguises
While everything organic burns.

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