We are the colour of terror
Of sea foam of sleep
The breeze that rushes from broken lungs
Our voices are a scream a roar
The hiss of sand and water
Our streaming manes and violent hooves
Rushing on and on and on
Falling up curling over in down
To land quivering at your feet
Soft as petals
Safe














Comments
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O' course it doesn't make sense. Where's the sense in making any?
--
Jessica Duffy Photography
AHorseADay
"Affection between human beings, however transitory, however qualified, is the closest we can come to Paradise."
--
telling detail. fresh detail. the good writers touch it often. the mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. the bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies. ~bradbury 451
--
telling detail. fresh detail. the good writers touch it often. the mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. the bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies. ~bradbury 451
--
telling detail. fresh detail. the good writers touch it often. the mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. the bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies. ~bradbury 451
--
O' course it doesn't make sense. Where's the sense in making any?
--
Jessica Duffy Photography
AHorseADay
"Affection between human beings, however transitory, however qualified, is the closest we can come to Paradise."
--
telling detail. fresh detail. the good writers touch it often. the mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. the bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies. ~bradbury 451
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