"diffusing" poems
The candle light flickers with such intimacy,
Celeste bodies colliding in allure,
Leaving only marks of compassion,
Turbulence and vile noted under the moon light,
As people envy our love in the other room,
The charisma and sparkle in our synchronization,
The heart melting and charming sensations,
My feet limp and my head spins,
With every stroke and touch that you trace along my back,
Goose bumps seem to increment,
****** emerges that weaken the chains in my soul,
Hangover
Strengthening my love and awareness towards you,
Enthralling enchant,
Chamber of secrets revealed,
A new dawn seen,
Replete words,
Embelleshed and kept,
Diffusing angst and reviving love beat,
Singing me deep lullabies as I sleep.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
Prescient, her essence
Casts a demure persuasion,
Endowed with verve and vision;
Concept to consummation,
The serenely possessed,
Creator, originator,
Allusion to the eternal azure,
Logos of abstraction,
Word and image collision.
Tonal palette of faith infused reason
Beauty and sublimity,
Serve to season
Verse, canvas and film,
Mediating aesthetic, seminal senses blossom,
Lyrical each permutation,
Seeds of vibrant chroma diffusing the mystical.
Visage and hair, her figure haunted
With perfection - a work of Art
Nurtured and lived invocation,
The canon of taste;
Crystal for the *****
Devotional fragrance ,
Holistic ethos, melodic invention,
Animated, pure -
The embodiment of redemption.
Transcending form, parenthetically
(Merely) the decorative,
Allure, artistry and symmetry
Superlative complexity,
Her erudition satiates, supplanting
Winds of constructive banality.
Purveyor of an uncommon savor,
She collaborates in the peculiar
Pursuit and reward,
Encounter with depth, explored,
Human and divine, prosaic meets sublime
Igniting within an Eros
Passion for truth, being and Telos.
Visionary of grace and peace
Transforming our earthbound dissonance;
Our caprice,
Hope and abundance, the myth of scarcity,
She narrates the Good.
Pen, lens, color and stage
Vulnerable, unrepressed, effusive
Romantic articulation,
The reservoir deep,
Innately primed conduit of Love.
Beyond plebeian, cosmetic, the trite
Woman of substance, pulchritude
And delight.
Effervescent - her smile exquisite,
Eclipsing suffering,
Wordless expression, understood language.
I am transported, my imagination replete,
Sonya Rose -
Art personified; unabridged, complete.
©2008 & 2013 W.S . Warner
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
I climbed the dark heaven to meet myself alone..
To smell all the roses and espy the stone..
Nevertheless, the cloud was frozen and the breeze was calm..
I saw her descending and coinciding with my palm..
Her plain white vesture was contrasting my red..
She was diffusing the divinity that I could not even bled..
Our faces were same but our aces were inverse..
She owned one whole entity while I was a disperse..
The moment was priceless and so were my emotions..
It was indeed the most breathtaking phase to my notions..
My other twin was bounded with a definite time span..
She was entirely a woman with the heart of a man..
*"You don't live inside me, I have never sensed you inside,
Painted with shyness, you rather live like a bride*.."
I peeled up my heart and had the eagerness to know..
If the sun lives in me, then why do I fall like the snow..
She smiled and glared down on me with the rays of her starkness
and told me how sturdily I have been lidded under the darkness..
Holding the flowers, she stands in the island of my soul..
She ponders my echo and waits for the control..
She imparts her colors when my pallet runs out..
but puts on her cloak when my demon comes out..
Surprisingly, I asked "You are my part. Why don't you fight out..!?"
She had an answer. She works eternally from the hideout..
In the midst of the stirring stillness, she reminded that I had to leave..
Ironically, I could not crave for what I had been dying to receive..
The same ladder showed up and slanted me back to my nook..
and the wind narrating slowly what I had given while what I had took..
*I returned to my place which was as murkier as ever..
I sensed the time-It was cursive and clever..
Perhaps I will reap more strength to deflect the chirping into the roar...
to mend every single lapse and bring her back someday on my door*..
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
First Girl
When this yokel comes maundering,
Whetting his hacker,
I shall run before him,
Diffusing the civilest odors
Out of geraniums and unsmelled flowers.
It will check him.
Second Girl
I shall run before him,
Arching cloths besprinkled with colors
As small as fish-eggs.
The threads
Will abash him.
Third Girl
Oh, la...le pauvre!
I shall run before him,
With a curious puffing.
He will bend his ear then.
I shall whisper
Heavenly labials in a world of gutturals.
It will undo him.
3.2k
*Butterfly Desires & Fictional Highs,
Magnetic Spells In Her Emerald Eyes,
Bleeding Perpetual Fire & Toxic Cries.
Lucid Screams Of Her Plastic Love,
Paper Towns & Serenity Above,
Refracting Into An Apocalyptic Dove.
Postcards Of Her Estranged Serenity,
Diffusing Into Polaroids Across Infinity,
Rhythms Of Lusts Erupting Obscenity.
Bluest Shade Of Her Misguided Confessions,
Uncharted Fragments Amplifying Obsessions,
Profane Prodigies Detonating Desecrations,
Digital Dreams & Fictional Desires,
3D Symphonies Inside Her Crystal Wires,
Purple Streams Translating Fires.
Tunnel Visions Transmitting Reality,
Suicidal Trance & Static Eternity,
Molotov Solution Is Her Lighthouse Of Ecstasy.
- 04:19AM -*
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 6:56 PM UTC
I know a bit about
*learning to dance in the rain
like nobody is watching*
but...
I know way more about
dancing like a *****
in the kitchen
despite the warden
standing aghast
eating up his own
billowy firebreath
soliloquy reprimands
I earbud block
shimmy, pivot and pop
raising vibration tornado
toss it a flippant middle
and cheeky smile
without breaking stride
devil dismayed
lips keep on syncing
as if I can hear demeaning
demonic procession
but I already know
what he’s saying
*stop dancing like that
in front of our son*
you mean…
to the beat of my own pulse
shaking divine creation
diffusing rainbow throes
undulating radiant orbitals
all for my own blissing?
one day that boy
will be a man
who knows
better
than to ever
call a goddess
a ***** in the kitchen
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC
Articles of clothing,
writ by the wearer,
Particles of loathing,
spit by the swearer
We wear our souls on our sleeves
hand-paid machines
print letters of jest
on wallet-proof vests
sifting society's sincerity
through media's selective filter
cleverly diffusing the difference
between adverbs and adverts
Green is the new black
Trading black paper
for greener souls
-or-
Greed is the new snack
Feeding omnipotent omnivores
with insatiable goals
The bell sighs,
"Let freedom toll."
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 4:04 AM UTC
I swear to god I am going to die,
My heart beats irregularly,
The seconds passing me by,
Wide-eyed and trembling,
I can feel my eyes twitching,
The iron flowing through my arteries,
Oxygen diffusing through my lungs,
The decay of cells,
The renewal of organelles,
All in a blink of an eye,
I imagine falling out of my chair,
I should yell,
Scream even,
But it passes,
I move my hand from my chest,
The flesh over my ribs still red,
Nails embedded in my skin,
Hair swaying in the breeze,
Jesus Christ I can’t take it,
I’ll throw a chair,
Write a final letter,
Call someone and tell them I love them,
I know this is it,
The feeling of finality,
If only I had more time.
I wake up today,
Having dodged yet another bullet,
The power button on this computer is cold beneath my finger.
I’ll sit here for hours.
I still can’t believe it,
I should have died yesterday.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:13 AM UTC
Celebration breaks
a waterfall descends
dewdrops of mirth
twine to form
theatrical strands
diffusing mélanges
of paradise
‘twas a triumphant day
to have reigned
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 6:31 AM UTC
These demons in my head
Are no less real than the
Pills in my hand
Laced in glossy white
And pink
A heavy dose of
Dreams
What's the diagnosis
Besides my obvious
Inability to sleep?
Maybe I am allergic
To these bright lights
Strung around the world
In little clusters
Maybe I am repulsed
By the faint smell of
Pine diffusing off
Her clothes
Maybe I am appalled
At the thought of
Sugar plums twirling
In my ****** up head
While I try to rest
On the stone cold floor
I have a case of hate
A disease completely
Impossible to escape
Jolly is not a word
To me
Anymore
December, December
The way you make my
Pale lips shiver
In the frosty air
The way you make
The green grass crunch
Under my cut up
Feet
I think I may have
Loved you once
Many moons ago
Back when that
Fat guy with the beard
Was real
But now things are
Different
You make my nose
Glow red
And my skin
Dry up in flakes
And I swear,
Miss December
You are ruining
Every second of
Every day
Because it's so much easier
To place the blame
On someone who isn't
Exactly real
Now, back to the pills
Down they go
Along with my words
Along with the poem
Goodnight,
Miss December
I pray to wake in
January's light.
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
Ethereal and Base a harmony so diametric a solid.
Wisdom's forgiveness lands to the unyielding new,
white spray on black lava, merging
elemental minerals in salt water.
Life the mediator, yearns for compromise
algea harvests sunlight at the hard shore, grows into plants
fish munch coral creating sand washing up, a tree's foothold creating soil...
can rock become Earth any other way?
Mother's beauty, an unknowable generous smile
and confident grace from the sun.
Ages
sitting wrinkled and depleted to her waist,
beauty transforms
into unknowable generous laughter alighting graciously from wise eyes,
like a flock of Heaven's doves so close to home
stirred by her running children: daughter and son.
All the while all the yearning is unrequited.
For her children, Beauty is vertigo,
painful reality rooted to the shore.
Eyes long for the horizon, Vision Country
between sky holding its breath and water measuring out patience,
The heart spills out futile on the crystalline sea,
but Sadness, belonging to clear water,
lightly buoys lonely Ecstasy,
Completes the voyage.
The Vision pairs selfless love with unmet desire,
opposites' harmony the firmament,
but the sound breaks from tension and the echoes fade,
and the senses footing gives way;
vertigo with dove's wings tied shut.
Descending minuscule between dissipation
falling through molecules of bliss,
and diffusing atoms of despair,
to the last remaining positive and negative
and the tension's silver thin wire between.
It cuts tied wings free,
slingshots the dove's soul back up,
at the last second, the tension's iridescent thread tangles loosely on her foot.
She hurtles back up through the scales of size:
Microns, amoeba, minnows, birds, primates, people,
over trees, looking down at cities, mountains, yet higher
borderless nations, green and sand continents,
and again all the crystalline blue seas.
The silver filament draws taut, holds the dove's ascent,
wings slowing in awe as she views Mother Gaea
her intensely brilliant sphere accompanied by vivid tiny stars.
in a cold cold soundless night...
Grandmother teaching her children to fly;
Beauty's yearning realized complete.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
The rain runs,
spreading the stone polished
and clean.
Like this, you must
let the water slip
on the back of your unkissed neck,
the curved dips between
your fingertips,
nestle
in the soft folds around your waist
that you hate,
and stumble on your collarbones,
your genetic mistakes.
Let it slide on the stretch marks
skimming your thighs
like fog diffusing across the hills,
and inside the grooves of your too-large ears,
form little streams.
Let it wash away
and unearth these parts of you
where you don't want to look,
where your lotion never reaches.
These are the little patches of soil
you must water with care.
Flowers, flaws -
how much is the difference?
One day a lover will give them a kiss
and you will understand
why we are so tender
with broken things.
Let them bloom, and see yourself
wilder, as you grow,
for gardens are most beautiful
with some ferociousness.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 7:24 AM UTC
Mneme begin. Inspire, ye sacred nine,
Your vent’rous Afric in her great design.
Mneme, immortal pow’r, I trace thy spring:
Assist my strains, while I thy glories sing:
The acts of long departed years, by thee
Recover’d, in due order rang’d we see:
Thy pow’r the long-forgotten calls from night,
That sweetly plays before the fancy’s sight.
Mneme in our nocturnal visions pours
The ample treasure of her secret stores;
Swift from above the wings her silent flight
Through Phoebe’s realms, fair regent of the night;
And, in her pomp of images display’d,
To the high-raptur’d poet gives her aid,
Through the unbounded regions of the mind,
Diffusing light celestial and refin’d.
The heav’nly phantom paints the actions done
By ev’ry tribe beneath the rolling sun.
Mneme, enthron’d within the human breast,
Has vice condemn’d, and ev’ry virtue blest.
How sweet the sound when we her plaudit hear?
Sweeter than music to the ravish’d ear,
Sweeter than Maro’s entertaining strains
Resounding through the groves, and hills, and plains.
But how is Mneme dreaded by the race,
Who scorn her warnings and despise her grace?
By her unveil’d each horrid crime appears,
Her awful hand a cup of wormwood bears.
Days, years mispent, O what a hell of woe!
Hers the worst tortures that our souls can know.
Now eighteen years their destin’d course have run,
In fast succession round the central sun.
How did the follies of that period pass
Unnotic’d, but behold them writ in brass!
In Recollection see them fresh return,
And sure ’tis mine to be asham’d, and mourn.
O Virtue, smiling in immortal green,
Do thou exert thy pow’r, and change the scene;
Be thine employ to guide my future days,
And mine to pay the tribute of my praise.
Of Recollection such the pow’r enthron’d
In ev’ry breast, and thus her pow’r is own’d.
The wretch, who dar’d the vengeance of the skies,
At last awakes in horror and surprise,
By her alarm’d, he sees impending fate,
He howls in anguish, and repents too late.
But O! what peace, what joys are hers t’ impart
To ev’ry holy, ev’ry upright heart!
Thrice blest the man, who, in her sacred shrine,
Feels himself shelter’d from the wrath divine!
2.3k
In the freshly seared hours of the morning
there's a hot, bothered growling
coming from beyond
the rose-studded chipping fence posts,
sick with the stench of stained mattresses
and mounds of cage-less garbage-
tossed willy-nilly
into a smoldering, contorted
**** of stacks.
Here,
in this spot of dawn
-in today's un-showered
moist enclave-
I find, syncopated
by the vrooooming scooters
and gassy buses,
a fresh hope diffusing faster
than the steam from drains,
-subtler than the soft soju snores
of last night's curb cuddlers-
slinking up, down, around convenient stores' corners
past every security camera,
bouncing off rib cages,
tickling the barbules of the songbird
perched in my utility wires
in a nest neater than my bed.
This is summer, Korea.
This is Korea in the summer.
Aug 9, 2012
Aug 9, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
The majesty of a clear sky
is what gets alive in front of my eyes.
Within the deepest darkness consumption
I encountered the path to beauty and seduction.
Your lips I see moving,
your metaphors I see diffusing.
Brilliant onyx magic covered this soul
entitling it to be finally whole.
And now fire feels cold,
no one can ever be so bold.
And all this Power in me
simply makes me be.
The brightness in my smile smolders.
Can you see how clear waters smother?
Can't you see how Light can also ****
And how obscurity may help to live?
Inside your entangled tale and fail
I dug your own grave and pain.
You may believe the fortune teller
for your destiny to be even lesser.
Search for the Mother Moon,
but I promise it'll always be too soon,
because the Daughter of Night
will forever be on Her side.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
Was on pedestrian
in a hospital
Walking on a stiletto
Feeling high, like on hills
Wearing trendy clean clothe
A white lab-coat
is a top
Sticking her left palm around
Her waist,
And hip is dancing
Name tag,
stylish on her labcoat
Pharm. Romantic Pharmacist
A name,
placed on the tag
Vanity she felt, and
glancing side-on
And, sweet scent diffusing
Into a pharmacy,
she placed her leg.
Someone,
a good looking Pharmacist
Welcomed her,
With a beautiful hug
And kissed her, beautifully
A romantic Pharmacist
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 6:06 PM UTC
Coco is sitting on my lap as she adamant about that
When she is sweet, she is saccharin
With black, velvet fur over her perfectly shaped head
The one with the bat-shaped ears -
She even looks like Batman from behind
Armani, he doesn't like his name very much
For if he did, he'd come more when he is called.
I'm not sure I really like it for him either.
He is truly a pygmy lion and his demeanor is his roar
He let me hold him earlier - but jealous Coco had to interfere
They are both beautiful - in the stereotypical cat way
Individual in their personalities though
Unique in their expressions of themselves as frisky felines
They demand attention -
especially when they have something "important" to say
They will tear up the apartment in one fell swoop
And I refer to their claws as weapons of mass destruction
Seems their claws provide them a means of revenge
A means of recreation as well as means of diffusing stress
Cats stress? Oh, my but yes!
Don't be tardy with the food and certainly,
Don't be ***** when they've pood
If so, you will know their wrath as described above
Cleaning up another mess can cause YOU some great distress
Which will all melt away as they purr at your caress
I don't think that I've found a more rewarding position
Than caring for a cat, despite their disposition
Of Mice and Men, though a great, great tale
Has nothing on Coco and Armani or their magnificent tails
I acquiesce that I am their guest and so, will behave in part
To give love and affection, some discipline or direction
To know just how I will behave
This is "how you train your human"
The way of the master, the feline brigade!
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
There's a mansion on a hill
I've seen it numerous times
But,
I've never been inside
It's said to belong to an old woman
Who is very selective
in who enters her domain
Either you're an insignificant servant
And you slip inside
Through a back door
A tiny molecule diffusing
from high to low concentration
Or, you're a personal servant
Then, you gain special access
Still, through the back door
Water molecule
Diffusing through osmosis
After that are ordinary guests,
aided by the butler
through the front door
Facilitated diffusion
Molecules carried or channeled
And finally,
the VIP's
Welcomed by a great procession
Through a special VIP door
People,
invited by the madam
with great effort
Active transport
From low to high concentration
Requiring added energy
But despite this selectivity
of who can and cannot enter
That old mansion on the hill
And the jobs it provides
Is essential to the livelihood
Of the people in this town
Just like the cell membrane to our bodies
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 1:43 PM UTC
*Lightning Enchantress & Her Diamond Absolutes,
Moaning Fluxes Of Her Satellite Pursuits.,
Phantasmal Intents In Her Indigo Silhouettes.
***** Eyes & Animatronic Bliss,
Her Cherry Lips Calling For Her Symphonic Kiss,
Inimitable Raindrops & Iridescent Perpetuity,
Condensed Laments Of Her Kaleidoscopic Sphericity,
Purple Palisades & Platinum Charades,
Pheromone Verses Of Her Propelled Shades,
Shapeshifting Reveries Of Her Hourglass Fictions,
Charming Archangels Concealed In Her Convictions,
Glasshouse Perspectives Emitting Luminescent Predictions,
Magnetic Canvas & Her Stainless Vibrations,
Her Aesthetic Amour Diffusing Amplifications,
Satirical Saga In Her Spiritual ******
Lyrical Charlatans Of Her Velvet Creativity,
Crystal Flowers & Supernatural Dreams,
Befuddled Effigies Of Her Cryptic Realms,
Her Feral Gleams Illustrating A Prophetic Queen.
- 02:32 AM -*
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
There are many of them --
Life as it happens gets recorded
in my hard disc of a brain
(I'm always in 'save by default' mode) --
some are like
harmless, even pleasant, butterflies
some like
stinging bees
I store them all
in cages
in the posterior of my mind
even as the Present engages me
I often catch snatches of
sounds of buzzing,
or, of the flutter of wings
never allowing myself
to get a full blast of them
(I don't usually dwell in the past, you see, it's the future that causes worry)
except in occasional moments
of mental peace
when I let the cages open
and they swarm into my head -
the bees and butterflies -
diffusing colour
into my monochrome mind
making every bit of it
bloom alive --
it's like listening to old cassettes
you know
dusty, old cassettes that were lying
in some drawer, locked away;
like turning the pages of a novel
read long ago,
getting re-introduced to its characters --
and a gamut of feelings
rushes through you...
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
icecaps come undone
crushing into the ocean
as she sheds her frozen tears
penguins and p0lar bears shudder
as their habitats recede
like the snows of Kilimanjaro
volcanoes explode
spewing smoke and ash like billowing pillows
into the stratosphere
diffusing sunshine's heat
like a cold compress
floes of lava melt glaciers
rivers of mud cause flooded folks to flee
fissures crack and snap from her pressure
towns and countrysides split
floors rumble and roll like the ocean
walls tumble, crumble and roar
bells toll an all too familiar melody
families cry out, wailing and ranting
chanting dirges of great loss
an inconsolable cacophony
rubbled lives lying in ruin
but she is not to blame
the earth is a no fault state
this is our doing
ecology's consequence
greenhouse gasses and other pollutants
have given her a fever
her pores are opening to vent the warming
she is not angry or vindictive
punishment is not her goal
and evil has not played its hand
the planet is just cooling herself
it's how Gaia gets her groove back
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
*Friendship – a seamless sky
Far too complex to gauge or delve.
At times like the early rays of morn
It fills one with joy.
At times like a gentle breeze
It cuddles and cossets.
At times like dark clouds
It overcasts the mind.
At times it comes blowing like a gale
Sweeping us off our feet.
At times it sprouts like a seedling
Growing out into a tree, giving shade.
It blossoms like a Night Queen
Diffusing in the air, a heady scent.
At times like the plaintive notes from a flute
It saddens the soul.
Like a rainbow it may swiftly vanish
Or remain like a beacon
Guiding us when storms rage.
In darkness, it burns like a candle.
In loneliness, a sweet presence.
At times so silent
At times so very eloquent
Finally like an unfinished tale
A fond memory
A lingering scent
Like the life – sustaining breath
It remains…..!*
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 8:19 AM UTC
Where do I begin.
It's been so long since I've been so close to the end that I could smell the earth around me.
I think I've been playing both sides of the field so long that I can't differentiate between a graveyard shift,
and a cold dead sunrise. But I wouldn't know the difference between differentiating and diffusing dreaming
Dead dawn rises opening up this world
Dead dusk down on a twitch throe, circling the fence around my collapsing line of vision
Sorrow and *** the two things I like best that I want less of the more that I get.
If I could go back...I would have kissed you on the river. I would have shown you with tenderness, what it is like for your life here on this world to be wanted. I would have given you what love feels like beyond the shade of fear of loss, the ultimate gift I would keep on giving. And then I would've stricken you with my oar until your beautiful body no longer broke surface intentionally. It would have been the gentleman's way of settling things. Instead I chose the dreamer's.
I've been in camouflage, hiding well from you. hoping to escape within the community of a seemingly functional
system.
Found it hard to keep my cool when utterance of a simple name or phrase could throw me into breathing lasps,
When the sight of a single stone upon the ground could be a city in the sky, my last gasps are playing and
rewinding and then playing, and rewinding, and then playing, and rewinding and then playing, and rewinding and I'm laying down the sheets upon the floor, because the bed reminds me too much of the perfect story memory I'm
alone. In a
building. In a
desert. In a
deadlocked staring contest between me
and my reflection in the moonlit water memories that make up all I am were was are is will ever ******* be
If you can't escape in a ******* dream then where the **** else am I gonna go?
I've wasted my life, observing, becoming less a part of all the things I spend time looking at.
Removing myself from the final edit. Hoping somehow,
That total abstinence,
From your world,
And my worldly desires,
Will
somehow
put Me in
CONTROL.
Love is about control for you. I believe in you.
I don't know if I believe in control.
It doesn't matter if I believe in love.
Someone please just see the justification for anything I do. I am begging for a partner. I have no one to observe
me.
If I seem hellbent, please...I am merely driven by demons to an end I would have no means to reach if I was...
left alone...
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 5:41 AM UTC
Sky spills over
silhouette of ghostly clouds
fading pink
drops of diffusing wine
into crystal clear water..
air filled with tinkling shards.
***** smells
upon my hand, my pale palm
my warmth seeking fingers on the glass..
wandering around checked tablecloth,
stained with fallen foods
and lost alcohol...
And grinning faces making rounds
flocks of laughter
known, unknown, grim, glee
I remember of Golden knobs
I once held.
which brought them here.
which brought me here.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 6:24 AM UTC