Pressed Christmas Blue

December.
And one engine is leaving the nation in the guise of pressed Christmas blue.
Regard the guys.
Remove the expression in their crafty hearts and start staring at pears.
Any help is such little news.

While you do that, I’ll be wintering in Persia.
At 9am.
And not before.

Previous
Previous

In Bed with Earth

Next
Next

Touching Hercules