extremes Death of a Rose of thought, last in lust filled dreams. fellatio squirming, barriers announced and bypassed. 031221 ... misstree what would you like to shatter today? because certainly you haven't come to these lands for safety, for certainty or for rest-- you have come to roar louder, to thrust farther into darkened recesses than you have tasted before. you are here to find something new, to push through and past. and i? i am here to see if you can show me something new. 031222 ... Death of a Rose and what improvements would you have me construct for your eyes and mind? frantic scrambling, lost in your woods of deepened beguilement. blood hot eyes peering through my skin. feral musings upon your broken harp. strangulation happens when falling through your vines. i am leaving tatters of clothing and blood pools as i catch my breath, leaning on this blackened bark. 031222 ... misstree clothing is as superflupous as the flesh that it hides. every thought, every assumption and preconcieved notion must be left at the base of this monolithic mountain. it will be a breeze to ascend, it will break us to climb. if you think that you are lost, you are precisely where you need to be. now strike forward. let vines tangle only to taste their tension. they cannot hold you, if you remember being ethereal. let the scent of rot be the perfume of a rebirth. focus thrust in one direction. there are borders. they must be shattered. 031222 ... Death of a Rose this is an insane traipse about the blatant grey. this is the place i can freely write, knowledge of consensus gained, conciousness granted; so i will keep bullet like, until my trajectory is frictionless. counting the times and moments that are the defining instances that you can trace my screaming into the blue. 031222 ... Death of a Rose of my despair. of my self loathing. of my nightmares. of your touch. of your words. of your pain. 031222 what's it to you? who go blather from