give_me_twenty_a_night Death of a Rose and I will roll down the window, say hello. And tell you of thunderbirds and mountains and lions that like the heights. give me the darkness of your thoughts and slipping upon the root grown mudbank, imperfected. but give me fifteen a night, to give credit in the sacrificial smoke whirling around the abode, like a lion or mountain ready to curl. give me a flash of a smile, a hint of a kiss upon my head crowded with the marks. but give me ten of the welcomes and releases, because they are not mine. . 130521 what's it to you? who go blather from