the_breath_of_a_charming_angel fyn gula in the days when the forsythia were swelling, buds wrapped tight as the lemon yellow candies in the toscana tin, he began the journey he always wanted to make. the first steps of a helfstaaden colt, wobbly and unsure, yet instinctive. the initial movement of one born into a new world where dreams are the thoughts of another seen as images in our restful sleep. he walked under the ribbons of bone chilling, silver rain falling from the fog of his anxious curiosity. each drop a stinging question swallowed up answerless by the mystery he was traveling towards. caught between all he hoped for and all he had received. if his heart was his hands, it was full of gifts for her. a 1940's suitcase brimming with wonder... never ending chocolat bottles of prosecco stories from pantelleria songs written but not yet sung books of family fotos a pinnocchio costume fragipani a cigar tin found on a street in helsinki, washed and now containing mystical herbs a smile on a dog one fresh, cut calla lily a new alphabet and a surprise wrapped in newsprint and duct tape. when the rain stopped, he was as wet as he was cold and the sun's heat felt as though it was as far away as it really is. however, the warmth he sought could not come from a distant star, only from the breath of a charming angel. 010404 ... silentbob like cpr it keeps me alive, keeps me going, you do everything and you don't even know i love that about you 010404 ... emal usually smells like cigarettes, but she's still an angel! an angel hidden in black, she needs wings though. We all need wings. 010404 ... alkalinepixie when he whispers to me its warm against my ear. and his lips are close to my cheeks and i think that if i just turned my face id be kissing him. 010405 ... Teddybear the love from both of our hearts is stronger then a wrecking ball. Our hearts pounding in rhythm, i know that this is my soul mate 010405 ... camille http://www.entropy8zuper.org/skinonskinonskin/ifishoulddie.html 010508 ... little idiot the smell of her breath... the TASTE of her breath... always the same. sort of tastes likes... home. too bad she isn't exactly a charming angel. charming? when she wants to be. angelic? ha. 021112 ... fyngula he saw it in the morning hanging in the darkness like the white smoke of a wet fire. he loved talking to her when all they could see of each other was what they saw when they made love. 021112 what's it to you? who go blather from