Mars
There is this glass world, above which stars create themselves.
Numberless, gold, altogether invincible.
Minds melt in them, and the heart, in devotion also.
They are my organs.
The glass mirrors these stars, and the gold, and in passion.
A blood globe now, black, ferocious,
Arrests the light. Steals the stars. Plucks them out like jewels.
It is your centre.
There are no desolate sands on this planet
There is only love.















Comments
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~Reality cannot not exist without fantasy~
[link]
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my enemy said to me, "love your enemy."
and i obeyed him and loved myself. gibran
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casuality is being in a holding tank in distant city and being told you're weird and then coming to your local holding tank and being told the same thing.
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"If the English language made any sense, a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur."
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casuality is being in a holding tank in distant city and being told you're weird and then coming to your local holding tank and being told the same thing.
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