whatsoever strychnine queen i am here and we are time. by the slightest movement of your hand suspends said of the the watchband hero sunlit never knows signals like that single movement of your eyes past shimmering hair; aching tragic slavic dark eyed uninterested the apathy & beauty in your honor. you are gone and we are time. a luscious heap of youthful splendor pressing heat makes the cling as sore that single passing of your eyes guilty nonchalance and nothing more i am rot and you are time. by the movement of your hand i creep imploding love of wilting passion, of rabid heat we, so well together cling in drowsy sleep; NO-MATTER-IN-MIND. victim of punchdrunk jubilee lovely sunday's blasted valentine 040116 ... Alex there is no trace of pine cone whatsoever 040413 what's it to you? who go blather from