

To an Ailing FriendI.To an Ailing Friend
A week ago I saw you light up and you relaxed your speech and dimmed your mind
But the change was hardly noticeable because of the ground in tar guts and the consuming decay
And yet for some reason I felt scared of the passion I witnessed slowly falling like a flickering flame.
II.
Your smile is kind of slurred now,
like some chalk silhouette made of milky smiles and wispy hair
And your lungs used to breathe in dreams like a sweet perfume, an empowering scent that we both followed like idealistic fools.


The Dragon Breathes TonightThe dragon breathes tonight Long, arduous steam that sneaks From the crevices under our village Like a young girl creeping outThe Dragon Breathes Tonight
From her covers on a sunny Sunday afternoon
And there is a smell in this air; The breeze catches us as it swings by Wildly snaking around the branches and Cupping our faces for a sleek moment
Grasping the deep earth beneath me,
There is a sly sense of passion that flows And drips from my fingers
Like sunlight upon a cedar tree Like wet sand on steaming waves Like embers sliding off a glowing log
A si


UntitledI grasped her hand as we spun through The metal doors And the unconcerned smirk on her Tired face Betrayed the turmoil withinUntitled
And she’s smiling now like she’s draped In a sunset, and her fingers are lightly tapping The iron bar that rests behind her right arm
And the sand is cool on her toes, nestling its
Granules into soft velvet skin and creating A deep sigh of content
Still she murmurs for some kind of release, And I clutch my hair as I see her try to transform Like some deformed caterpillar
The deep blue water is tense, like a


By the Water's EdgeAu Bord de l'EauBy the Water's Edge
While sauntering through the fair streets of a proverbial Rome, I took a seat in a grove near my flat. While I sat, I looked at the granite and the grass and pondered a new urn that I had received just this past Christmas Eve. (Was it Venetian, or perhaps Grecian?) The rocks below me rattled irritably, and I stood and stared and saw God’s winking eye. Cleverly disguised As a fiery star, it dashed forward with sun spots dancing upon the brim of blinding colors that seemed to run and paint the sky a waxy gold.
. Random, isn't it?
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"..science is no more than an investigation of a miracle we can never explain, and art is an interpretation of that miracle."
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Every day is a new day...
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"There are no bad organs. Only bad organists." :: except St Oswald
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[link] <<< my website!
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"listen to the wisdom of m32" ~annubissl
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Banned deviants are always informed of the reason for their ban (their own user page depicts the reason and displays it for them when they login and visit it) and the length of time for which they are banned, and many will be given a second chance if they
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I'm a poet. Take a look: [link]
Member of ~scrawled
The less real I am to you, the more perfect you can make me.
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