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John stole a book (shiny and new and not smelling quite right but close enough to hurt) and scurried through the city streets, losing himself in the gaping maw of a hazy black alleyway that looked a little like home. Shaking fingers scrabbled through pages, worrying edges and bending corners; ‘Forget forget forget’ writhing up and down the margins, each letter teeming with desolation. He threw the book into a puddle, Ink bleeding and reforming ‘Jane Jane Jane…’ |
Interesting. It read like a story, which i like very much. I say it was interesting becuase i haven't read the others in the series. I'm going to go do that. So apart from that it was good. I think instead of being a poem you could make it into a story. It could turn out pretty great. Let me read the others then i'll know for sure what i think :) Misty | Posted on 2007-09-17 00:00:00 | by misty_of_moon | [ Reply to This ] | |