there_are_times Death of a Rose That touch the substance of your movement, a misplaced torchlight. It has eluded my adventure in your reading. A gentleman in fortune? Perhaps, although it could be an interesting engagement beheld, skirting the visage of dread. Facing the darkness and finding your misjudgement still the borrowed complacency. Digesting the stone meant to help the tragic envelope, and I am closer in my fingers entwined. This sliding cadence is always positive, a fall as easily carried beyond the itch of your character, back in the dreams ending. Let us correct our gaze drawn into this delusion. Monogrammed in the spire, a strength in battle, twin axes brandished, the dream of the fallen. 040818 ... pete canoes paddling down the white water path, over turning smashing against the sharpened rocks the forgiens scream for help having ignored the natives' prior warning, thus they recieve none. above the sky does not cry, the pathetic fallacy falls inline with the ojibway, safe walking along the portage as the europeans drown. a movement from within the bush, simple hours, simple days, langauge unfolding, spreading, devolving your eyes light in sun, shimmering in such a way they take my mind and make my body yours though it is really my soul i wish to give to you 040818 ... Doar when silence is necessary, you viewing a time plate of directions resting on the woad before your call to battle. or at times when the turnkey costs more that you would ever pay. in a silence hounding trickles of a disbelief when her and her call the moon a liar and the sun a bastard ruin, discovered in a digging. consensus exagerated when there is time. . 130601 ... Doar Damn Pete. Just reread your words. Beautiful. Much respect. 230220 what's it to you? who go blather from