your golden breath spills onto my impoverished senses
i can hear it and taste it and touch it.
robbie-***** poem. The lonely *****.
double ended *****. One with 70s sideburns. One with a crew cut. One with a bowl cut.
your face carves its way through the destruction, and sits like a madness in my mind. It is the obect at the end of the sphynxs stare.
its shape is a fixture to be studied by scholars and religious leaders everywhere. a cornerstone to interperate the dna of angels,
the origins of beauty shaped by the mouth of god.