

3 Cinquian'sChurch Hill Pink silk Blankets the sky While polar bears roam town. Sadly, this is the last place with3 Cinquian's
No roads.
Rituals of the living for the dead Flowers
Cover her eyes And millipedes crawl out her Mouth. It's time to bury her past. Our past.
Once a Year Launching
Cylinders of Light, into the night sky Celebrates history. I hate Loud noise.


lorca ImitationReflecting on Recent Adventureslorca Imitation
Narrowed by the towering walls. Near hands waiting at the horizontal waterfall and landing docks. I'll let my hair grow.
While newspapers hit me with yesterday's news. and familiar faces I don't recognize.
The wild is no longer wild and there are no fish in the ponds of wrappers.
With all of the crashing of winter coats and there aren't any living creatures for me to watch die.
There is a sillouette of myself in too many people. Narrowed by the towering walls!


News for the Old.News for the Old
A gust of wind to fall my frail body A breeze to knock me Down
The clown-faced children pass by Silently as I lie On the ground between a parked car and a pedophile.
A sad clown: the world’s worst creation. A mob of nightmares, running From themselves.
A breeze to knock me down between a pedophile And a parked car; that On retreat, he might Trip Over my corpse.
.
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-Lisa
gallery|prints
*loads gun, places barrel against forehead, and pulls trigger*
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Comment, to get comments.
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Comment, to get comments.
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I know nothing (at the moment)
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Comment, to get comments.
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I know nothing (at the moment)
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Comment, to get comments.
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