The end is ending, so is the beginning, the tail of the serpent is the head as well. Rise and fall, will be the fate of every wall...


Restful spirit is being stirred again in the hushed den of Autumn night to flourish every drop of rain until it stops. Your tree branching arms creek heavily and seek to intertwine with every warm heart beating in the chest of star crossed lovers, flowing into the

river of the deep, plunging with every sharp cold sound it bounces off of...


It's started to snow, and beneath the forest streets of decaying leaves lives the dormant spring lush with child ready to fly to mountainous sky land in feral and wild articles...


Wings of a feather flurry in tether, to dank reaches under the sea, for the sea reaches to me. Sprightly hither to cloud shores elsewhere, beyond the floor of your melting bathroom floor.