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Swingset Mafia
written by Tessin07:52 AM 12/24/04| The sky could be described as a dull grey this evening, as i make my way under the changing leaves, wet with rain. The smell of smoke hangs mysteriously in the air, in that sort of way that for some reason, just fits this time of year. It draws nearer and nearer, the passing of one year since this damned stone started it's downhill spiral. Ohh dont bother worrying, what good has it done me thusfar, I ask you? The smokey charcoal evening fragrance brings everything flooding back as i make my way through the deserted appartment complexes. The rose thorns rip at my sweater and i remember thinking, "im glad that wasnt my skin". |
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