Some sort of morning "together we will live forever" the words whispering me to sleep.
I find solace in words, in every creek
I find the beauty of these hills to resemble the fire I sung.
The poem I wrote some time ago
obviously inspired, but somehow blossomed over time
an offspring that gave birth to rivers and lies
Let not winter mark and blessed be her, Mary.
Nor saintly sins or she's my burden now, the biggest mistake I've ever made.
...three weeks left of solitude
"And the winds would caress me, a being of thoughts to elevate besides me. A wisp in contour, a flower to rid the fear"
****ing piece of bullshit.
The fire has no breath again..
the sundown illuminating where I was
a scorched grove, midst my last book
to be read..
on a piece of flesh
a piece of rotting wh*re