ceruleanblueandvirescentgreen

[horsemo]

Every now and then when sol starts to filter past the clouds and the walls and my eyelids and my day becomes luminous once more as reality harasses me into another day I suffer an eidolon of overflowing and superfluous and inundated and overabundant sense and I can feel the siccity and broken caress of the hay and I can smell the madid blades of

Comments

[anonymous]

What a bunch of clop.