An icy sun is on the horizon again and I know it's almost summer but my blood whips through my veins and my bones achewhisper for a chance to play Icarus again. I'll build them out of bricks this time, out of plexiglass, out of light and dark and space cold as hell. I'll not build them waxy again. I'll not surrender to the sea below. I'm gonna touch that icy sun, let 'is solar stares lick at my poetry soul.
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no subject
(Anonymous) 2012-05-03 08:52 am (UTC)(link)