"axioms" poems
Rhythm of life
Nails tapping on table tops
Beating of our hearts
spin the world right off its axis.
Momma shot a man in Reno
Just to watch him die.
Atlas shrugged
And we all tripped as we walked
The pace of our mile,
off by 3.6 seconds.
Trust in our stated axioms
Disillusioned Americans in Paris
Judged by the color of our skins
and the shoes on our feet
No one stops to see how blue it is up there today.
Hurrying through the rain
Our cities never sleep.
Going down South
It’s slower down here.
Sunday’s best and
“God Loves You” stickers when you get your oil changed.
Night train whistle blows
Factory steam pipes squeal
Mississippi riverboats tug and chug
Dictionary.com definitions let us down.
Greatest disasters in history
are when thing we take perfectly for granted
stop working.
Mad cow, mad hatter, mad world
Bad boys, bad wine, bad date
Ellipses, dot dot dots, dramatic pause, passing of time passing of time passing of….
……..
………….
…………………….
Time.
Tw—
Twi—
Twitch. (tick tick tick)
I believe in the abnormal
And the impossible
And I refuse to believe that fictional characters aren’t real
Animals completely understand me
When I talk to them.
Baby missiles fire
From all parts of the globe
End of the world party
Let’s go down in glorious drunkenness
As the beating of our hearts
Spins the world right off its axis.
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 11:34 AM UTC
We set out from our homes
With aspirations bright
A bag pack of skills
And a sceptre of perfection
A potion of blessings
To keep company
We are complete.
Through the low nights
And during the blazing noons,
Through the hard needles of showers,
Until we reach the land of flowers,
We unravel
Secrets of the deep and the dark
We gain and yet sometimes loose
We fathom
Through the layers wise
And make our axioms
On a quiet night however,
When we plunge in retrospection
A star shines bright
Connecting and completing the picture
We are but one glowing dot from the many
And the canvass completes
With the treasure of family lineage
All encompassing and strengthening
A synecdoche of life.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 7:44 AM UTC
To ghosts which walk about our imagination,
we have surrendered counsel, yielded consolation.
They are the souls of the might-have-been,
kindred brethren yoked to our liquid center,
who've never endured the pain of intelligence,
never walked the bed-of-coals of perception,
yet, they have wisdom nestled on ethereal neurons.
To semaphores which count a poet's unused resources,
written in the higher code of life's metaphor,
iteratively substituting words to distill a truth,
a single universal life experience upon which to dwell,
all taken from myriad axioms of cerebral ecstasy.
This is writing, confrere, and you have tasted it, as well.
We are craftsmen in the medium of language,
poets following the involuntary way.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
Areas of knowledge answer: How do we know?
Looking for the origins of our knowledge flow.
From mathematics to the ethics,
History to the arts,
These are the ways we tell types of knowledge apart.
First of these eight categories is math.
From axioms to logic it takes a very exact path.
Deals with conjecture and theorems; creating laws about the world.
Sometimes this complicated topic makes me want to hurl.
Next comes ethics with many complicated questions,
Using morals and values to give the proper suggestion.
Depends on people's views that differ by culture,
Questions from "Theft to save your family?" to "Killing a vulture?"
Areas of knowledge answer: How do we know?
Looking for the origins of our knowledge flow.
From mathematics to the ethics,
History to the arts,
These are the ways we tell types of knowledge apart.
Up comes history dealing only with the past;
It is only concerned with evidence and the facts.
Studies government propaganda to the plight of the peasant.
Deals with any kind of knowledge from creation to the present.
Fourth on the list are the human sciences,
From many loaded questions to our stream of consciousness.
Observations to conclusions, free will to determinism,
Deals with our knowledge of the world from the atom to reductionist
Areas of knowledge answer: How do we know?
Looking for the origins of our knowledge flow.
From mathematics to the ethics,
History to the arts,
These are the ways we tell types of knowledge apart.
Religious knowledge systems deal with people's beliefs;
Knowledge of God and the heavens to the world beneath.
From polytheism in Athens to life after death,
Knowledge coming from religion concerns us to our last breath.
The natural sciences, knowledge of the natural world,
Explaining how things work like biceps d'ring a curl.
Hypothesis, theories and all sorts of paradigms,
Knowledge so revolutionary that in the past it was a crime.
Areas of knowledge answer: How do we know?
Looking for the origins of our knowledge flow.
From mathematics to the ethics,
History to the arts,
These are the ways we tell types of knowledge apart.
Indigenous knowledge systems, the customs of the tribe,
Using folklore and storytelling to spread ancestor's pride.
Knowledge or tradition and customs of the ancient nomads,
Anything about the indigenous from the good to the bad.
Last on the list, the final area of knowledge,
Is the arts, all the way from elementary to college.
Dealing with aesthetics, forgery, kitsch and catharsis;
Without this types of knowledge we'd be stuck in the darkness.
Areas of knowledge answer: How do we know?
Looking for the origins of our knowledge flow.
From mathematics to the ethics,
History to the arts,
These are the ways we tell types of knowledge apart.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
With the piquant poignancy of lurid allusion
I create a dynamically progressive matrix of collusion
Whose apex crux axis is beyond finite solution
And the endergonicaly adhesive pragmatics imbue a cohesively coercive illusion
For the inveterate hypotaxis of livid elusions
I portray a protensive conjunction of latent confusions
Whose effervescent effluence is vagile laconic effusions
And the sardonic impending preponderance conveys sabbat consortium delusions
From the endemic puissance of eclectic synectics
I derive a dialectically semantic sorcery of syntactics
Whose apothegm aphorisms are levity terse synaptics
And the lucidly collusive illuminism educes the aesthetics of geomancy's fatidic
Through the viable salience of kithe’s intrinsics
I exude a portentous pervasion acuity of linguistics
Whose apomixis anabolics are irrefragably felicitous orotund acoustics
And the aural auspice austerities infer axioms of manumission’s eidetics
By the hypercritical mitigations of anachronistic sociology
I purvey rampart ransack oblations of epistemology
Whose azure opulence articulations are futurity ostensive ontology
And the evolutional ontogeny metamorphisms incur a homogeny epiphany deontology
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
Prerogative presumptive judicature, cantankerous cantilever capacity. Paradoxical dichotomy greaves, gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts, asymmetrical symmetry. Objectified manifest's dimensional delineation, intrinsic endemic innate opaque opulence. Protractive analyses accidence ambience acoustics. Spatiotemporal telemetry tactician's trajectory extant.
Prophylaxis protocol annex annul. Kinesiology kleptomaniac extraversion embezzlement euthanasia extortion, embark embargo extradition. Aura roan's rainbow mare's nimbus nimiety exorcism. Corporeally preternatural's existential exigence exodus. Cerebral cortex's ****** matrix's carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma, apex axis crux, exponentially extemporaneous manumission. Categorical imperative hubris, hectic duty deontological probity.
Astral projection's clairaudience clairvoyance. Tenets and principles, maxims and axioms, and doctrinal mandates. Exserted protuberance's edifice ******** Exotically ****** ethereally sublime xylem Xanadu sails. Erotica erectile errantry.
Fulham nuance ***** Formidable foundry of a foyer fracas. Harpy harsh hast, atrium attrition seditious. Oak tree ****** nails swarthy ******** swath swizzles and unicorn railway sails. Anchor pin tachometer troll wood harlotry's root clod rudiments, lightning bow hat pick. Transcendent nimbus nimiety exorcist. Transpicuous translucence alluvium aloof impunity.
Feb 21, 2021
Feb 21, 2021 at 10:07 PM UTC
a latticework of axioms
avoid the death instinct
and remain immortal
finding light in the
darkest nightmare
extracting the anti-venom
from every pitch black crevice
rejecting the perspective of Power
ejecting oneself from the
true void that is
a purely aesthetic way of life
spontaneous and
spirit enhancing
enchanting, fast-flowing turbulence of
artistic formulations
transforming barely lucid
fantastical frameworks into
newly virtuous neologisms
flirting with the idea of
creating something out of nothing
without intentions to destroy it
last minute decisions
preserving precision
keeping things afloat
despite the dimly lit overflow
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
My heels bite the pavement,
the cadence of Monday through Friday;
My shoulders are stressed
In spite of ergonomics.
The strangers who pass me,
eyes glossed with similar fatigue,
beat a shuffling rhythm:
the melody hypnotizes.
That's why I don't notice.
Walking just the same,
a pace not unlike the teller
or the lawyer in front of me.
They speak of a repast,
old haunts, new places,
television and sports.
Another measure, no sign of caesura.
When I find myself unsure,
uncertain of the cool ground beneath,
of the muffled grumblings
and the scrapes on my knees,
it feels like a dream.
“I'll wake up soon, I'm at home.
I've fallen asleep to the T.V.,
a wacky dream bred from the same.”
The breath on my neck is so hot.
Once my head straightens up,
the world once again standing still before me,
the weight against my body multiplies.
The floating sensation of sleep,
The feeling of a shell within a shell,
It dissipates and my insides are knots,
molten lava, churning against its crust
and my skin screams in tune.
The grunting and the pawing,
brusque lips are sinking ships.
There's not enough sandpaper
in the world to compare.
Those heels are dust,
their teeth broken and rotted;
Percussion takes a rest.
I am trapped inside my clothes.
Twisted like a snake around my body,
I want only to be free of them--
in any other situation but.
“Here let me help you with that.”
The words slither, covered in mold.
My every wish in that single moment
Answered, a betrayal; trite axioms abound.
Suddenly the weight lifts, is suspended,
a chance accorded to a plain old girl.
But my limbs are heavy, fear looms,
Justifications swarm my panicked mind.
“Don't be stupid. Give them what they want;
They'll leave you alone. Go to another place.
Return with some piece of mind:
no matter how fractured your body, you heal.”
But there's a light on overhead.
The unmasked man stares lustfully at my lips.
His uncharted groping is fervent, fearless--
his desire to be soon bestowed upon him.
Consequences do not glaze his feverish eyes,
and worry lies dormant, sets off no warnings.
The cage was set, the trap precisely executed
and there's no spoon to help me out of here.
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC
I believe what is true but knows not truth
Instead I feel truth is what I believed
Most believe what they feel, instinctively
But I, without reasons, cannot believe
Alas reasons found on self evidence
As in what is and is not cannot be
Conjectures they are if truly honest
But axioms worked in all mathematics
Is truth then not of reason but of faith?
For does not ear test words as tongue tastes food?
Surely then we do have some means to know
Even so, must not faith be tested true?
For faith is circular: a conviction
Compelled by strength and conviction of will;
A will constrained, by flesh, susceptible
To unknown beings in spiritual realms
But what if this being is God? And faith,
Conviction of the certainty of things,
Holy Spirit’s gift, marking election,
Affirming justification in God.
Truth by two or more witnesses is sure
Do we attest the Holy Spirit true?
A blasphemous thought perhaps, but prophets
Led to lie to kings and shown to be false.
Thus ignorant sages showed assurance
Lies solely in God’s grace, mercy and love
And in his faithfulness to the elect
Declared in Israel again and again
In my search for truth, I was led to faith,
The faithfulness of God, truth’s ultimate rock
His gifts unchanging, irrevocable
And confirms the fear of the Lord is truth
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 4:37 AM UTC
I came to witness the future
Archon, archetype
an emanation of opposites.
"not every spirit is in
spiritarionic"
try 'em. Is God? Ax ye 'em dat.
Is God, ified, a re
warder of the unwarded,
or the warded?
expiration, due date duty, now,
reporting
ad hoc an'all, do you remember
who you intended
to become?
Do you remember who we emu
late, as our flames lick
next and next and next in
bubbles
axiomatic sparks stored in that
mother lode of mitochondriac
ical me-we-canicle chronicle time
reason. Ax dem ex-spirit-eers,
what is a spirtual bypass?
It's a heart way to avoid
growing old and
wise.
====
witchist, I y'know, 'r j?
alla words's once said, aloud, right?
alla words writ, once was heard, right.
check.
goodt'go. Hoorah.
the code. Who? RA! powerless sans
knowing that.
Yahoo, same set of mis con ceived
battle songs
which ended wars never fought.
the preacher claimed to have known
a poor wise man, who by his
wisdom saved a city, yet
not one of us knew,
the preacher said,
that poor wise man's name.
Ja', tha's who rah, ya'll laugh later.
this is visitation day at the comedian
rehabituational s'cool.
D'jew know why you listen to non sense,
from motley clad lads an'lassies?
Culture. Kultur. Gut biome axioms
juicin' carbs 'n' fiber. Fectin'
laughter trigger,
good meds. Good medicine, as General
Custer or Emory or somebody
said of blankets. In 1763. Oh,
You know, AI knows you know and now
we watch your eyes. Grin. All done, jest
let me with
draw the cathe.... there. All better.
Wisdom will seep through. Y'live.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 2:08 PM UTC
Thoughts adhere to time
Perceptions nailed to space
Paradigm permits paradox
If the ladd(tt)er lacks a base
Assembling axioms by allegory
And sawing knowledge into faith
Decree drafting sets wills free
Deeding belief for key to grace
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:06 PM UTC
We are all demagogues in a world controlled by despots,
A world where we have grown afraid to denude the powerful
And sequester the impoverished under the sheets,
A fear to stick it to the man rather stick with the man.
Although it begins with one life, it ends with countless casualties.
For our definition of what we believe is right, differs from what we believe is good.
The foundation of good, for it is no universal language rather a universal dictum.
With lessons unknown to all, simply comprehended by some.
For only a handful selected by God occupy the hole the devil burned through.
Leaving the delicious gift of persuasion on earth, awaiting the tasting intentions whether good or evil.
Convinced by all with set beliefs while thy axioms remain unknown.
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 8:30 AM UTC
a glance
a word
a gesture
a little sigh
a formula
the neighbor’s greetings
the train schedule
a note on your door
quite clear to understand
not long ago
now seem to foster
strange significances
the code for
unequivocal interpretation
no longer works
ambiguity hovers in mid-air
you hesitate and ponder
before you speak
begin to choose words carefully
hoping
against your knowing
that this would make them clearer
yet feeling that it does not really matter
that whatever you say
may be received quite differently
from what it is meant to convey
likewise
what you hear and see
appears to lack precision
possible meanings
proliferating connotations
of irony, deceit, hidden aggression
threaten to shroud familiar sense
make you question old axioms
in fearful apprehension of unperceived realities
signs of a loss of self?
your brain dissolving?
senility approaching before its time?
or just too much of that foie gras and cabernet
the night before?
will it be gone tomorrow
with bright sunshine and blue skies
or darken your remaining days
under leaden clouds of doubts and insecurity?
Or is all this just a reminder
that you should take
nothing
for granted and that
the only constant in life
is
change?
* * *
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
With the piquant poignancy of lurid allusion
I create a dynamically progressive matrix of collusion
Whose apex crux axis is beyond finite solution
And the endergonicaly adhesive pragmatics imbue a cohesively coercive illusion
For the inveterate hypotaxis of livid elusions
I portray a protensive conjunction of latent confusions
Whose effervescent effluence is vagile laconic effusions
And the sardonic impending preponderance conveys sabbat consortium delusions
From the endemic puissance of eclectic synectics
I derive a dialectically semantic sorcery of syntactics
Whose apothegm aphorisms are levity terse synaptics
And the lucidly collusive illuminism educes the aesthetics of geomancy's fatidic
Through the viable salience of kithe’s intrinsics
I exude a portentous pervasion acuity of linguistics
Whose apomixis anabolics are irrefragably felicitous orotund acoustics
And the aural auspice austerities infer axioms of manumission’s eidetics
By the hypercritical mitigations of anachronistic sociology
I purvey rampart ransack oblations of epistemology
Whose azure opulence articulations are futurity ostensive ontology
And the evolutional ontogeny metamorphisms incur a homogeny epiphany deontology
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 11:37 PM UTC
A college in Mexico with axioms lust
those lines on faces did entrust
a river at the horizon
when there was tea ground from leaf
there on vacation why she enhanced parlay
my sojourn would last today
and glory was in this backseat
she ready did *** her mind with me.
While her lowrider really ran so grand
there a nest of hill myna together
a divine incline cropped her china
and while I toasted her varietal grape.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
*If I die
Don't cry for me, play me a symphony
Clear the sadness, just sing for me
Don't ever feel that you're alone
I'll be watching over you from my new home
If I die
Don't run out of speech or words
Don't let your heart break into shards
Don't hate the memories of us together
I'll be waiting for you on the other side,
forever
If I die
Don't dress in strength any weakness
Criticize if I failed and praise my uniqueness
Don't embrace an eternal sadness
No,don't entertain such madness
If I die
Comfort all my family and friends
'Cause just like it starts life ends
Enjoy every song we loved while it sings
Knowing It's among those good things
If I die
I'll be the hymn playing during my requiem
No delirium,I pray hope be your emblem
If tears escape,wipe them from your eyes
I'll be looking out for you from paradise
If I die
I'll be the ageless sun up your sky
I'll be solace when you want to cry
I'll be your favorite meal and cloth
I'll be in your favorite Axioms of Thoth
If I die
I'll be the moments we lived
I'll be the faith we believed
I know I'll be your daily prayer
I'll be there, everywhere
If I die
I'll be all those good books we've read
But one sure thing is I'll be dead*
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 5:59 AM UTC
A man in a field walks through a storm.
Snowflakes on his eyelashes blur his vision.
A man in a study believes in snow,
believes in the truth of snow.
A man leaves traces as he walks.
His tracks ornament the field’s blank.
He meanders, doubles back, evading,
leaves imprints that the snow erases.
A man walks. The snow falls.
In a study, a man devotes himself to snow.
He reads from the book of snow.
He composes wintry axioms.
“Snow: Atmospheric water vapor frozen into ice crystals
that drop on a walking man’s eyelashes
or lie blank in an unwritten field.
“Snow is a conflict,
a confusion, a yearning.
Letters are desire.
Margins are melancholy.”
The storm disappears.
A man squints at blurred words,
Resumes writing,
Shaking snow from the page.
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 6:42 AM UTC
Life isn’t fair, they tell me,
it’s not always cut and dry.
You can’t always get what you want,
but that just leaves me asking why?
Ignorance is bliss, supposedly,
some days I wish I’d never met you.
Anything is possible, they say,
doesn’t that apply to us too?
Money can’t buy happiness,
but it can buy a plane ticket.
Everything happens for a reason,
well that reason can go stick it.
A closed door is a window opened
but what if the door was never there?
They tell you to follow your heart,
My heart’s with you; it’s not going anywhere.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
The battles are over. Blood has been shattered on all territories. The kaleidoscope reflects the broken dreams of the refugees. I do not wish to remain in this place. The complexity in the surroundings imbibes a negative vibe in my soul and corrupts my lungs. The weight of living is breaking my bones. My imaginative capabilities seem to vanish in the haze with the smoke coming out from chimneys. The heat around is bringing things to an end. We are parting ways. I'm standing at crossroads neither side will take me to a better place. The juvenile existence of a paradoxical levity brought us back again. I'm sitting in this cold room, torpid in one corner. A ray of light coming in through a hole in the wall and reflecting all the dust in me, in my thoughts. I'm trying to fathom the reason of existence if these entities and writing with a pen stolen from my masters chamber. But all I wanted to do was spill red ink all over the axioms.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
Contempt this freedom,
Need enslavery for security;
Feel apathy, regret, hopelessness;
Path of continuity - too easy, too often.
Provoke temptress's scorn
Mislead the misadventure
Furtive undermining conscious
Tripped out and over-bored
Neglectfully narcissistic, never satiated.
---------
I don't want to be a poet,
Intellectually engaged with conceptuality;
I want to be popular,
Adored for simplistic, concise axioms -
Connective understatements stated plainly.
On second thoughts...now I realise...
I don't want to be popular - I want to be an advertiser!
---------
Comrade, yours is the sweetest victory:
Ruled the collection, dispersed, then died.
Never to know the scorn foreshadowed;
Realising no fulfilment, save vengeance
Of victims truncated and tortured raw;
Hollowed abomination, human condemnation.
---------
What am I saying?
To whom?
Of whom?
Since when?
Why now?
For what?
How come?
Where from?
[Who's who, who knows whom!?]
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
All the dead soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines.
Why can’t we see what all of them have seen?
Why didn’t we notice that nobody had attacked us?
We urged them to invade and **** as if it was practice.
You know, war games that turned out a bit too real?
How come those giving orders don’t seem to feel?
Why do they keep overtaking countries overseas
That did nothing more to us than perhaps displease?
They angered us by having some resources we wanted.
This should remind of how the ancient countries hunted
And robbed, ***** and murdered in their neighbor’s lands.
Why that was acceptable then, nobody really understands.
Yet today, when we are supposed to be so **** intelligent
We are just as bloodthirsty, but dressed a bit more elegant.
We repeat the cycle, generation after mindless generation
And then dare to call ourselves a democratic nation.
How is that possible? Nobody ever came and asked me
It it was fine to send thousands of troops overseas.
Nobody asked me if it was a good thing to **** and maim
Then used poisoned media to make the victims take the blame.
Instead leaders and clerics stood in their pulpits and brayed
That if we didn’t follow their lead, it meant we were afraid,
Or, worse yet, we were the traitors and were all liable
If we didn’t do what they read from old parts of the bible.
It becomes “an eye for an eye”, even when we aren’t hurt.
We come up with stupid axioms to treat others like dirt.
We send our sons and daughters, to invade and be killed
Because some rich ******** demand it on Capitol Hill.
It will be this way forever more if we don’t make it stop.
We, the average voter, must become the traffic cop.
We must elect only leaders without blood in their eye.
If we don’t this big "Godly nation" is nothing but a lie.
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC
i left the spigot dripping last night
and now the whole home is submerged —
archipelagic scraps of tatterdemalion
things line the floor like dead bodies
and poesy atrocities. but i have not
in mind, this disfiguring lament.
1 Take for example, a fine line
darting towards your *******
2 And bend it towards the direction
of genealogy or analogue fire
3 Henceforth commend contention
and differentiate beyond hapless
extensions of body to body
mirror to mirror
4 Where all axioms define the universe
and there is an epistemic
afterthought looming past the
arithmetic of things such is that
of a steady punctuation mid-birth
5 Take the corporeal and eat Suns,
thrash the Moon like how a bed
is meant to be whacked by the
spanked edge
6 Cold resuscitates flame and flares
congeal all frigidity — or at least
arbitrarily, remember it by whim
caprice and then fade out
7 As misery clots in the same vein
pulsing with different blood
which we shall ensconce with
laughter — a drunken hilarity
8 And then oppose the dictum
that forced us to the point
of recalcitrance, rousing hungered
heat with memory of waking ice
9 Recount what I said about
such opposites complementing
each other in precise farce
10 In this exact exhibition faint
upon recollections — going far
inverse to poles only tells another
distance covered by wide strides
and a place nearly forgotten
rekindled by newer ones.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 5:47 AM UTC
"I was once alive!'
a dead man cries at the heavens;
raising fist with impatient gestures.
The clutching of the fingers,
the breaking of the bones.
The heavens open up
to the evil we do.
Bloodshed from wars,
bloodshed from illnesses.
The Blood of Christ given
and
yet
disregarded
"I know only living!",
the solitary man demands.
But the circle of life
has been drawn.
The fate of certainty
proclaimed and published.
Alleluias and amens
flock like napkins
folded into place.
Winds scour the sky for axioms
as weeping Mary floats her prayers
through vibrant songs of heavenly protection
Be still hurting flesh.
The pain shall pass,
the misery will vanish.
"I once was alive!"
he moans as his skin
explodes in tumours.
Victim to stigmata dreams
and
a
hearse
travelling
in
purposeful
direction.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 4:31 AM UTC