Saturday, February 23, 2013

a hospice of delight

ideas in thrice
the shield

de-located, craven like a layer that's cratered, i still braid. comparatively, my
was smaller. it's an inverse or a cat-call: can't remember which. she's a
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?