Celluloid Trances

Underneath the soaring sky, the Svengali above making sure that his baby earth remains, rumoured to kiss an apocalypse soon with its body writhing in polluted hotness. The Svengali hanging earth high on a rocky noose in his garden of intergalactic quackery. The hospital downward on the bones of earth, released Jim into an ironically brisk atmosphere.

He predicted the architecture of the day, in the end he wouldn’t lose something as good as himself. The thrill of chasing, and escaping, and falling had withered because he rippled too fast, the water probably waded and gave way for him to flow down bars, and clubs, to pavements and avenues; hospitals. Nothing seemed so loosely suicidal to him than to have fences closing in on him, blinding him with grass greener in a more calmer way than his eerie self-destructive greenery. What was so profoundly found as to keep him Collected…

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