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I saw you cowering under the umbrella;
rain dribbling down your pointed nose.
Were those real tears cascading over your lips?
Lips, too full and moist, disgusting lips...

Your long black coat flapping in the wind.
You crossed the street and almost tripped
I held my laughter back...into my vacuous throat.
I **** near laughed and dropped my limp marigolds.

I took the red trolley out to the  rugged cliffs.
Caught in the ocean's wind;  blinded by a twilight moon.
Blustering, as I think back on your pathetic plight.
Lost in the rain of smelly wet, wool coats at night.

Must I return to a Cornish rainstorm? Just...
to look for your guilty, gaunt face; wet with grief.
Then I will show the pain in my face...hidden.
Yes, I did leave your illness of mind in haste.

I see you running across the wet cliff's edge.
Running towards me as the ocean thunders below.
No, I whisper. A passionate kiss will not do. You wave.
Your face glowed. No! You turned and jumped,

Smashed and dead...was not the way to go...
Can one love madness?
The ruined church yard hidden
in a wild haunted glen...strangled by red ivy
and rope like vines.
A relic buried under moss and sod...
The stench of deadly flowers...
beautiful and sick.
Spirits hover like vapor in a blue mist.
Fog hangs on broken statues: headless angels,
saints with no lips.

A pitiful howl, haunts the glen. Frightens
the country folk who gasp as they pass;
a headless horseman would cause such fear.
The legend says, if you look and the beast catches
your  eye, you will die with blood to **** until
you are dry. Your tongue will swell and hang
out your mouth. you'll join his legions lined
up for sport. He'll giggle and wiggle you till
your body just fails.

Hawks hover in covens ore the old grave plots;
headstones smashed and holes in the ground
where coffins were found.
Corpses buried with all their blood. No under-taker
in this back woods town.
The beast is angry and lusting too. He hears her laughter:
his siren from hell. Where did he plant her? He cannot
recall. He laughed at his legions propped up against
the wall. His army of ghouls so soiled and bald.

The beast falls to his hairy knees. "Please spirits, where
she be? Let me lick her clean. I have a desperate longing
for this zomie queen. I burn with lust and desire."
The spirits laugh, "This is your fate. Why did you ****
her if your love so great?" "Love!" the Beast's  yellow eyes
blazed. "I just want to **** the blood between her legs."
"Your soul is worthless even to Beelzebud. Your paramour
interests him too." "No, she is dead.He cannot want a corpse.
Oh God, he'll turn her into a vampire and I'll be lost."

"Oh spirits. what can I do?" "Why don't you die, then we can
take him your giant eye." A scream let out in blasts of flame.
"Go back from where you came.  Let her spread her fleshless legs
for that lean adhorred monster. Let him make her one. Vancre La
****. *****! If he wants her more. Her blood is black but sweet
as cheeries. Now, she is but a bloated corpse. She lost her
beauty. Let him have her. I care not."
The Beasts rears up and beats his chest. He howls and  crys.
He bites his own arm; the pleasure of pain.

"I seduced her into my art. If she wants the devil gone is my
heart.,if ever there was one in the start. I've been tricked.I sold
my soul to have her blood to restore me new." The spirits giggled.
"You're dead, you fool. You are the ghost of the beast in all men.
Hold her bare bones till they crumble to dust. She will be gone
and what have you left? Men always **** the thing they love.
HOWL IN THE NIGHT! You can't **** her blood...

AHHHHHHH....
Read it by candle light. AHHHHHHH......
A harpie you may
have been...
Yet, delicate as lace
your fingers spin around
the spinning wheel.

To sit and watch you weave
is life's delight.
This keeps you near and in my sight
when eyes grow dim.

You weave a tapestry of our
love filled past.
Your wifely smiles are
just for him.

I feast my eyes
upon  you in delight.
You may be his
but not this night...

Our love is such
refined.
The fates we tempt
yet, endure sublime.

Our souls as one
till dust in time...
I can wait and watch
till he is done.
waiting is not shaking...
An unfinished woman

my husband dead...

A lady in waiting...

I dust the urn instead.

Pink in my cheeks;

waiting for love.

Chalk dust my face;

sainthood was ******.


Upon a blooming rose
in her first glow.
memories....
In the begining...

It was not a void...miracles were happening in a
Time before Time.

Time pasr...Time present...Time future...

The earth may be shifting; she shifted before...

We make it happen when we open the door:
eternal Time.

All matter contains life. Talk to the stone.

When we accept this truth we are never alone.

The Law states: We cannot go backward--
forward we must go.

There is no death only change of form. Now, do you know?

We are in the song which is yet to be sung.

Forever and always, we will never be done.

Not this Time!
KM Colby @ 2010 whatever you think I mean!

— The End —