a hospice of delight

ideas in thrice
  -or-
the shield
  -or-
s.o.p.

de-located, craven like a layer that's cratered, i still braid. comparatively, my
hole

was smaller. it's an inverse or a cat-call: can't remember which. she's a
bastard?

religion seemed remote, but the idea of spirituality resonated. i remain lost, in a

stasis. nothing really means iron-clad, until threatened. right?

composition is of course a way of undressing meaning; as it was written. let's
just take

the ether and promise none of this happened. agreed?