Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Dreaming of my lost memories

Martyrs swarm searching for the desolate dust inside the victim of joy.
I seethe bursting forth from my systolic dust above the stillness.
My waterfall drifts , the grass coiling within the black garden seethes.
A priestess reaching above a cold dream is indestructible...
Have those lovely demons fed hellish houses?

Green Matcha Tea


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