My Diary: A Goth In A Black Rose Garden

June was unwell and had slept in an air raid shelter all night.‭ ‬I had heard the explosions but never saw the aircraft approach.‭ ‬As she was fallen like medieval masonry I stood over her like a gothic revival arch‭ ‬-‭ ‬a small portrait of Augustus Pugin residing in a secret drawing in my writing desk torso.‭ ‬A number of tourists drew up outside and we endured prescription picnics and then initials scratched along the frown lines of our temples.‭ ‬After the push pull train had had left the branch line station I went out into the garden to blow up green balloons and hide them among the red undergrowth.‭ ‬It was hidden in here that I saw a group of mythological characters‭; ‬several of which laughed hysterically as my ears grew so large they decided to walk off the side of my head and go back indoors on their own.

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