"O bliss, bliss and heaven, oh it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. The trombones crunched redgold under my bed and behind my gulliver the trumpets three-wise, silver-flamed and there by the door the timps rolling through my guts and out again, crunched like candy thunder. It was like a bird of rarest spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now."
Posted on: Wed, 09 Oct 2013 04:04:50 +0000
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