The air has an edge,Chalky and gritty and filled with smoke,Like last Tuesday,Like every Tuesday before.Violent music pounds the amps,Thick bass tangles in my hair,Hatred and angst, rebellionUndulates the crowd.Glaze drapes over bleary eyes,Still, I see her, again,Like a beacon.Melted...
moth
Oh, as the moth doth fly on fickle wings Towards the fiery flame that unfolds, So to do I flock the same as the moth Towards the brightly burning heart that you hold. And as the moth doth warm his...