nothing is pure, in addition to the cold & melancholy of the loneliness
clean limpid. carrying with immersion to skin of the nippy chilliness .
let people to sober.
in the ice blue of the ocean and the sky of midst,
just like the specter of a general to the arrival.

1 comment:

  1. my cold hands needed a warm, warm touch,
    and I was thinkin' about you

    [ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DuPr3GuyvQ ]



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