

AxisA glossy drop of water fell from the tap. Click. Clock. Over top abandoned dishes disheveled, untouched, They trickle down plates swallowed, sopped of such Methodical, miserable echoes, Like needles, Pricked. Plucked away from summer sun. To be alone, the bitter shock, Taking in those golden threads, Now far locked. Gone. That ticking clock, God! Make it stop. He took a silver plate from tAxis
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Design Account
Member of Tgk
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"In the middle of summer,
All was golden in the sky,
All was golden when the day met the night."
- Panic! At the Disco, "When the Day Met the Night"
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