Title: B R O N Z E
Author: Alanna diablo
Summary: Poem about the Bronze. Kinda cool.
Rating: R.
Category: Buffy.
*Author's note: I'm in a weird mood, November brings insomnia and all my writting spills out onto pages during class. It's pretty short please take 2 minnutes of your time to R/R. and let me know if you like this, I'll stay up late more often. Enjoy!
*RANDOM QUOTE*: " ".
BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*
We clock the night as it flees. Cold demons in the factory. Dance a tango with cold cement.
Fire warms the corner's club, we rock back, dance in the smoke, in our club.
Broken movie screens, strobe lights. In this colored box, let music transforms you into another person. You are possesed by the music. Your sane and logical mind flees from you like horse to a stable. You flirt with danger, it's just a game. Electrisity hums with voltage, and the base's beat can be felt forever.
Outside, the sharp night air, and smell of smoke forces you back inside, to dance more. Surreal being's call you in from the empty night air, tempting you, but not your soul.
Candles. Broken mirrors. Red lights. Smoldering bodies begging for more music. Sweat draped like a think velvet cape over all. All bodies have heat, souls are meaningless in this world.
Author: Alanna diablo
Summary: Poem about the Bronze. Kinda cool.
Rating: R.
Category: Buffy.
*Author's note: I'm in a weird mood, November brings insomnia and all my writting spills out onto pages during class. It's pretty short please take 2 minnutes of your time to R/R. and let me know if you like this, I'll stay up late more often. Enjoy!
*RANDOM QUOTE*: " ".
BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*BRONZE*
We clock the night as it flees. Cold demons in the factory. Dance a tango with cold cement.
Fire warms the corner's club, we rock back, dance in the smoke, in our club.
Broken movie screens, strobe lights. In this colored box, let music transforms you into another person. You are possesed by the music. Your sane and logical mind flees from you like horse to a stable. You flirt with danger, it's just a game. Electrisity hums with voltage, and the base's beat can be felt forever.
Outside, the sharp night air, and smell of smoke forces you back inside, to dance more. Surreal being's call you in from the empty night air, tempting you, but not your soul.
Candles. Broken mirrors. Red lights. Smoldering bodies begging for more music. Sweat draped like a think velvet cape over all. All bodies have heat, souls are meaningless in this world.