June 2012
ronocsebrof:
I ran away, hands stuck in pockets that seemed All holes; my jacket was a holey ghost as well. I followed you, Muse! Beneath your spell, Oh, la, la, what glorious love I dreamed!
I tore my shirt; I threw away my tie. Dreamy Hop o’ my Thumb, I made rhymes As I ran. I slept out most of the time. The stars above me rustled through the sky.
I heard them on the roadsides where I...
