Sleepy voices. Nasty voices. Sexy voices. Golden pill; didst thou slip down my throat to enlighten me?
Dilligent of all expectation I assuaged all alarm in a large gulp.
And then I heard them; the calls of the dead.
No colours, just dread.
Paid me 20 quid and all got was the fear.
I just cant dance to that.
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Comments (3)
Anonymous
said:
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Crawling through the wet scrub Cold and drunk and doomed I pulled up fists of fungus and got magic mushroomed! -from the Tomb of the Unknown Poet |
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