The crystal ruins bathed in frigid tears might be found. Tread carefully along the street glazed in fool's gold. Head straight for the rosy horizon painted in perpetual sunrise, casting a pink glow across the faraway land of ethereal pools of ersatz stars and trees hung heavy with the fruits of desire.
But do not fix your eyes on this covetous nightmare sugar coated as a gorgeous aphrodisiacal dream. Keep an eye on the blood stained alleys of lesser iniquities deviating from the main road.
Fastened to a ramshackle fence post on the outskirts of town, there is an embroidered white handkerchief stained with a rusty color of mollifying lies. It signifies the wretched alley you search for.
Turn sharply down this meandering lane and follow it until you find what you seek.
There are the aforementioned crystal ruins, but the delicate, pallid angel's body you left there, has since dispersed above the stench of debauchery. You will not find her again.
What happens to the moth, when the candle is extinguished?
The meaning of this is impossible to ascertain. When questioned, I cannot bring out of myself the appropriate logic to explain these ill constructed, travesties of prose.
We will call these, Megan's Exercises In Vague Metaphors Which Heavily Employ Flowery Poetic Overused Clich�s. Exercise = practice. I am hoping that that will excuse the poor and aimless quality of writing. A sharp critic will notice the many shortcomings of my weak prose, but I am afraid I will lose the common reader entirely in their frustration to understand and unravel my work, or I shall so awe the common reader, whom is profoundly confused, that he/she would be led to claim that I am an excellent writer worthy of acclaim.
Infidels. Your flattery is lost on this obstinate head. I am full of pretty gatherings of words, but there is no point to them. The points I intend are not conveyed well, and lost amidst my complex wordings and overuseage of adjectives and adverbs. My writing's a sham. Beautiful and expensive on the outside, but cheap and shallow on the inside. Lacking in depth and point. I do intend to remedy this. I am working on it. That is what I am practicing.
My lover the thunderstorm is late today. I don't think he is coming. I suppose I shall... roll around in the grass instead.