Saturday, 4 April 2015

The Wake Up

"And when those distant and wan cries of a slum boy, 
 Judder and ripple the old wine in my hands, 
And when that haze from some orphan pyre, 
Tint the windows of my glossy Royce, 
I got this valiant fear, little but perilous,
I got this wake up dream, fair but vigil, 
I got this slaying oomph, that made inch but do roads,
I got myself, back from the obit, ,back from unreal. "

-Aroon Che
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