artistic-spider

A body like a statue  stares quietly out the window from the cold rusty bed, where she ... Genevieve ... lies dead. Into the twin oaks doth the porcelain owl sweep to peek through the glass and begin to smile? Indeed he does, while shattering into a violent and rubbery twitch, to disintegrate like a harbor’s mist suddenly carried aloft into the midnight skies. The moon shown in, in search for his friend, unobservant of ill omens spun, and still of which to be claimed. Ashamed and believing that he was loved no more ... abhorred ... hid his face behind an ashen cloudy door. Beneath the moon, statues tiptoed softly as