turn up the fire pit get ready for the grit of iron bars and smitten women who get bitten chewed up & spitten becoming minutes of the same old whit charm has nothing on it beginning with the decent and ending with the recently laid down perpetual of thee to see the breeze blow free unto the silent wheeze three that we see going so steadily into the leaves of a time tree breathing the life that we need to be steadily of the wind feeding the bleeding heart of a fling that though wondering we are blundering into the singing that is bringing us close to scream!
Posted on: Sat, 29 Jun 2013 10:31:01 +0000