Thursday December 06th 2012, 11:20 pm

Drip… Drip… Drips the innocent. Drip it goes. Goes down, down. Down with a splish it goes. Dripping away, all of it the innocence goes. Down to the sea it goes. Dripping away into a writhing murk born of the blackened brink. The briny midnight greens washing cascading triumphantly as they churn. Churning from the dripping of innocence as it goes under the current, rebirthing the dead in the murk of the blackened brink. Churning and spewing until all those precious droplets wash away so that the sea runs red.

The Blood Of Imaginary Children
December 6th 2012

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