| You're tangling and dangerous and thin--a stem who cradles the sin of cinnamon and dips a bit into a desperate fantasy who's made me a paper tragedy, out of a candle who burns a porcelain wax that turns and licks the center, of a dangerous tangling stem so thin it cradles the sin of such cinnamon. A mysterious outburst of fit and fright who was there to tell you to stand and wade and taste a dangerous paper crane who cradles the sun and whips the sky like a fitting catcher and a night. What a thin battle at the porcelain wax center of a tangling student who breaks the sudden wave of tension in a crown royal stocking |
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