Convoluted, dirty glass.
Tan plaster leans.
He doesn’t want to see your face again.
Windows to the souls are clean.
More towering glass stands behind
as if modern culture
is the only core for humanity.
Doesn’t seem possible.
Seems to be a cesspool.
Walk, slowly, the diluted pastures.
-
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stillfugue 
#1 by Evelyn on March 26, 2011 - 8:46 am
First of all, this is an unbelievably poetic line
“Walk, slowly, the diluted pastures”
then this part I just love because its fancy for f*ck off
“Tan plaster leans.
He doesn’t want to see your face again.”
#2 by Carl on March 26, 2011 - 10:15 pm
Thank you for your comment. You are seeing through my fancy.