by Mr_Grue » Oct 3rd, '09, 00:32
a duo of stanzas from my vault...
A Sick Bloom
Oh bloom, thou art sick
An indistinct worm
Has flown through night’s dark
In a howling storm
And sought out thy cot
Of crimson thrill
And with its dark occult lust
Will, oh bloom, thou kill.
William Black
If you post first on what is odd about this work, I shall buy you a pint at the Coal Hoal.
Simon Scott
If the spectator doesn't engage in the effect,
then the only thing left is the method.
tiny.cc/Grue