

white horsesWe are the colour of terror Of sea foam of sleep The breeze that rushes from broken lungs Our voices are a scream a roarwhite horses
The hiss of sand and water
Our streaming manes and violent hooves Rushing on and on and on
Falling up curling over in down To land quivering at your feet Soft as petals Safe
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telling detail. fresh detail. the good writers touch it often. the mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. the bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies. ~bradbury 451
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you are sure to notice certain things before you die; send them to me should they cause your algebra to fail.
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"To really ask is to open the door to the whirlwind. The answer may annihilate the question and the questioner." - Lestat
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I wish I was your coronary artery, so that I could be wrapped around your heart.
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Mufasa? I thought that bitch was dead!
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