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The Sick Child [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

[ profile | edward munch ]

and to dust you shall return [Dec. 4th, 2007|04:42 am]
aries has sinned. my lips are chapped from speaking to the moon. i long for the spring, to hold fireflies on my fingertips and pull petals from flowers. that shameful flame loves her no longer. my brother cries for the steeples, the midnight wind, and his soul. his slumber is consumed by the chapel's red glow. i wonder why they do not burn my fingertips with the fire they hold in their bellies. i wake before dawn and my showerhead creates condensation constellations on my mirror, sparkling orions and cassiopeias and ursa majors that glitter and then slide away from eachother. the sun scorches my eyes like the bellies of fireflies. until the night returns, ashes to ashes. for dust you are...

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