12-02-2012, 04:07 PM
Terrifying.
The treacherous hold the long-lines,
reeling in meals with their freak fury,
and bold coastal madness.
Aspects all spell spaciousness,
an alien tenor, tumultuous.
These greetings, rough and granulated,
cursing pleasant public phobias by way of nature.
He scrubs up rather badly,
the evil’s in his soul,
embalmed with cheap whiskey eponyms,
and the laughter of those of peer.
His facial hair, gritty unsophisticated,
like his soiled hotel mattress.
His desires keep him from the deep.
He speaks great talk with his fish.