“Annihilation,” I say, and run fingers over
brightly
colored glass lamps (some would say transparency), “is
driven by it's
ecdemomania.” The
fashionable curve of your
grin runs up against me:
“Had you the knowledge- well. Even so,
justifying it's practice could easily
kindle a war.” (Which might as well have been your point, though it wasn't.)
Lifting
my fingers from the glass, I
notice
once more the almost
painful elegance of your
quicksilver eyes
(right about now you will be thinking that
somehow I have gotten
the wrong idea about what the problem is).
“Until now I had thought well of you,” you state.
Verily, my heart chokes painfully.
With what reproach I berate myself. E
xpecting you to understand, have I been? May as well
zip up my winter coat (: that would be a hell of a long wait).
I cannot seem to turn away from this barren landscape.