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Aubrey lynn Mar 2013
Please let me preface
I dont like people
crouds make me cringe
and while i value my friends
i highly value my solitude
------------------------------------------
I cant picture a face
when i close my eyes
when my mind trys to grant
that one final human wish
before slumber encompases my body
and reality and dreams interlace
For i have no soul to match with mine
nor a soul to follow
in deepest secret with the fleeting hope
that maybe our souls shall intertwine
But i wish not for two to meld
for hearts to pledge an undying vow
for lust and ****** greed
for billowing convorsations

But silence

An individual respect for ourselves
two beings gracious for company
bodies laid side by side
your fingers tracing circles
on blank canvasses of skin
Where there is but an understanding
that breath so silent can be pleasently shared
and electic touch soulfull
igniting warmth surrounding my heart
of which embers burn soft and hot

Where aching muscles
tense from harsh realities
are smoothed away with solid hands
a mutual relationship where the
solidarity in thought is aknowlegded
yet the pleaure derived from presense
a caring being holding steadfast
unwilling to let me go
gentle and kind
Where the silence of
spiritual understanding guides
the instictual need for
companionship
LDuler Mar 2013
Been dazed and confused for so long it's not true
There were kids
Sitting in the soft night's semicircle
Encased in a haze of smoke
The darkness enfolding them in a cloak
Of all mysterious things nocturnal
Making it all eternal
A superficial feeling of found truth
A white aura of blazing youth
Conquering the darkness with the fiery tips of lit joints
Puffing chimeras and golden illusions
Things left unsaid yet lead not to confusion
The substance and the glowing friends
Seems to fix everything and make ineffable amends
Lends them some heightened receptivity
With some dazzling sensitivity
To the dizzy promises of life
        *
Wanted a woman, never bargained for you
There was blue bottles and red cups
Sloshing full of 21st century ambrosia
Every moment of the night
Is doused in glowing star-light
Different rooms, dark places
Different shadows, similar faces
        
Lots of people talk and few of them know
There was music softly ebbing and weaving its way to us
      
Soul of a woman was created below
Gleaming sequined pillows
Curtains ebbing in delicate billows
That no amount of reality could ever harden
In the black garden
Amidst the tangy, acrid scent
Boys and girls came and went
Among the soughs and the ***** and the gleaming stars
We are young; ***** replaces wine, blunts replace cigars
      
You hurt and abuse tellin' all of your lies
An adagio of whispers travels with a florid vibration
Waves of words, swirls of conversation
High kids trying to touch
What has never been tangible
     
Run around sweet baby, Lord how they hypnotize
These kids linger on towering stools and lush couches
Leaning back with careless slouches
Or wander back and forth
Breathing dreams like air
     
Sweet little baby, I don't know where you've been
An elusive rhythm throbs in the humid atmosphere
Fragments of lost words hover on drunken lips
A stirring warmth flows
From bodies spilled together
Snuggled under a blanket of stars
      
Gonna love you baby, here I come again
Hands take hold of hands
And fingers tightly interlace
Throbbing softly with fluctuating warmth
The room is electric, filled with tiny flowing currents
      
Try to love you baby, but you push me away
In this wake of boozed up elations
All sorrows are aborted, all conscience is obliterated
Blitzed kisses are exchanged, transitory enchanted moments
Bemused nudges and tender embraces
Arms around shoulders, heads resting drowsily
All of this immediate and forever
        
Don't know where you're goin', only know just where you've been
And the tipsy, blissfully mindless joy of youth
Gives them bleary yet satisfactory hints of the unreality of reality
        
Sweet little baby, I want you again
The teens are flickering in and out of consciousness like befuddled fireflies
The sober ones roam the rooms, drifting haphazardly about
Simultaneously enchanted, bewildered, and repelled
By the seemingly inexhaustible variety of drunken fun,
The ****, adventurous mood of the night
       
Been dazed and confused for so long, it's not true**
We are all so young
So young and dipped in the dust of folly
And our laughs contain a hint of melancholy
The magic of nights like these,
When the spell of mortality is broken,
Eludes us all,
Yet we cling to them
Like moths to a flame.
Nights like these dig deep in the stuff of the soul
But there is still much to be learned
lol how to make a drunken high school party sound enchanted and mystic
Styles Jun 2020
I want to interlace
My tongue with
The taste
Of your taste
And savor your flavor
Like it’s laced.
This pleasant tale is like a little copse:
The honied lines so freshly interlace,
To keep the reader in so sweet a place,
So that he here and there full-hearted stops;
And oftentimes he feels the dewy drops
Come cool and suddenly against his face,
And, by the wandering melody, may trace
Which way the tender-legged linnet hops.
Oh! what a power has white Simplicity!
What mighty power has this gentle story!
I, that do ever feel athirst for glory,
Could at this moment be content to lie
Meekly upon the grass, as those whose sobbings
Were heard of none beside the mournful robins.
Pagan Paul Jul 2023
Take my hand and let us go so lightly,
walking 'pon the lake of lovers dreams,
gentle ripples interlace our smiles brightly,
lighting the stars within romantic streams.
Making love as we sink beneath cool water,
drowning lustful in passions liquid embrace.
The dream shimmers, as the images falter
and the still lake reflects your delicate face.
Em MacKenzie Sep 18
You hate my printed tees and high top shoes,
you disapprove that I still wear my toque in June.
Always saying that I ruin the plot too soon.
You don’t know your worth, you are my Earth
my sun and my moon.

It’s how you get my smile to touch my cheek,
and the way you get my knees feeling weak.
The ten things that you hate about me,
are outnumbered by the things you’re loving.

You hate my shark shorts even though they’re cozy,
you can look past it because you’re the only one who truly knows me.
I’m tripping on words, the ones you prefer
because you know I’m clumsy.
You say I’m too loud, or my head in a cloud,
but the way that I feel I’m always showing.

It’s the way that you look me right in my eyes,
and how you still manage to give me butterflies.
The ten things that you hate about me,
are outshined by the things you’re seeing.

You hate when my hair gets too long,
and when my cologne smells too strong.
You hate when I exaggerate during fights
and when I snore during late nights.

Just the way that our fingers interlace,
and how you get that look on your face.
The ten things that you hate about me,
are just quirks, you’re making it work,
as you still get to know me.
A quickie for my girl who I drive nuts.
Em MacKenzie Sep 2024
My heart was always searching
even aware you were it’s home,
and each thought and feeling urging
to make sure you’d never be alone.

It’s the warmth within your eyes
and the comfort your voice can bring.
The way your smile lights up the skies
you’re my world, my heart, my everything.
When our bodies and fingers interlace
I’ve never felt so real and so complete,
it’s like art studying your beautiful face;
it’s the only sight I wish to greet.
Within dreams and when I’m awake,
you’re my ocean and my lake.

My eyes were always longing
to have you back and within my sight.
There’d be someone I’d be wronging
but wrong never was so right.

It’s the warmth within your eyes
and the comfort your voice can bring.
It’s the slow exhales and the quiet sighs,
when we’re comfortably silent or talking.
When our bodies and fingers interlace
I’ve never felt so real and so complete,
you’re forever my person and my place
I love you from your head down to your feet.
You’re the fix to every single break,
you’re my ocean and my lake.

Each inhale is euphoric bliss, we breathe for one another,
and if I could have one wish; it’d be that you had met my mother.
A home is what you have made
both on grass and where my heart is,
but I confess that I would trade
my only wish for your promise.
A promise I’d jump to make,
you’re my sea and my lake.
Ariel Ellis Sep 2010
no space in between
our bodies are attached
we fit perfectly together
your chest against my back

our bodies intertwined
it's a beautiful thing
your arms pull me in close
my heart wants to sing

the warmth of your body
sends chills up my spine
even on the toughest days
you make everything feel fine

I wonder what you're thinking
when you hold me so
your fingers interlace mine
I never want to let go

stay here forever
take away all my gloom
I love everything about you
you're my big spoon
Laura Duran May 2016
Tender, sweet
he kisses me
Lips touch
shivers much
We're no longer friends

Gasp, sigh
Feeling high
Heart pounds
Love abounds
May it never end

Bare skin
let's begin
Hands explore
wanting more
Point of no return

Rapid breathing
Mind is reeling
Waves of pleasure
beyond measure
Our bodies seem to burn

Pulse slows
Gently doze
Interlace
We embrace
I feel so safe and warm

Hold tight
through the night
Time flies
Sun rise....
and I wake in true love's arms
fox breath Aug 2013
I want you to trust me enough
to tell me even your deepest secrets,
the ones buried so deep
they live in the marrow of your bones.

I want you to map out the story of yourself,
the one running through your veins
so I can trace it back
to your heart.

I want to be enough to make you feel
even when your nerve endings have died
and your brain has gone numb.
I will wake you from your coma.

I want to interlace our fingers
never to let go,
while I hold every ounce of your hope
in my sweaty palms.

I want to tell you who I am,
the story written in my scars,
shattered hopes, tainted memories,
and rare smiles.

I want you to open your ears
and let it all pour in
but if it is too much,
I will not let you drown.

I want our indivdiual stories,
our tapestries full of different things,
to allow themselves to grow
and wrap themselves up in one another.

And I want us to do the same,
as our stories interlock
we will follow suit
because I am infatuated with you.
Pagan Paul Oct 2017
.
Random components in a broken box,
all there is of the jigsaw dreams.
Unaligned pieces distorting the picture,
a wooden tapestry split at the seams.
On the perimeter frame of insipid ice
molten images interlace in mist,
reaching for completion, a solid visage,
defying the puzzle a right to exist.


© Pagan Paul (09/10/17)
.
PNasarudheen Dec 2011
Love thou mind love and love
For,love is the binding Will of God.
Dip thy nib in live and gently draw
Draw sweet,sweet scenes around.

Honour blush as Ego's Pride
Upon thy cheeks flash rosy.
Body ******,hinges shake,Oh! Lord!
As emotional volcanoes erupt lava of anger.

Creator interlace creatues to depend
Hence,repent on,own-made calamities.
Love! give and take  as much as you need-
Only that much you need not be greedy.

Lust is  rust of love a desert fruit.
Being deserted,I once ran and ran
Searching mirage of human- love
With Tsunamis in eyes 'nd feeble feet.

Love is not selfish lust:
It is candle light for service.
Light:brightening darkened corners
Shows  us: all are creatures equal.

As we do violate the Nature's Laws
Laws of Nature will violate ours.
Walls will be demolished,Hills and valleys
Ploughed with thunder and quakes.

Love,thou, mind! love and  love
For, Love is  the binding Will of God.
Kaleigh Jan 2018
You always leave, a sweet taste on my teeth.

Kissing under moon beams, touching until our hearts gleam.

Silhouettes hold each other, as I try to find you in the wave of people you wish you were.

Sweet thing don't cry, skin is soft like cotton candy.

I'll never leave your side, your pain is mine.

Give me your love tonight.

When you go, your wide eyes as big as the ocean floor.

Just know, your love sticks like caramel apples on my lips.

Your love is so addicting but, so much sugar can make my heartache.

Sweet thing don't cry, I'll wipe those pity tears off your pretty eyes.

I'll never leave your side, your pain is mine.

Give me your love tonight.

Don't think, don't blink.

Just live.

Let your scent control my body.

Interlace our fingers on a strawberry bedspread.

I'll do whatever you want, I can show you what to do.

Wrap our legs around one another, feel the heat take over.

If only your love was real, if only your touch was made for me.

No sweet thing, you don't belong to me.

Only in my dreams.

And I'll never get to taste your candy on my teeth.
Graff1980 Jul 2015
Soft yellow petals paint the earth, falling like tiny feathers back and forth in a cradling fashion and settling quietly into the dirt. A small figure howls his lamentations. He leans over the earth pounding his fists against the open ground. A vacant face with almost ape like features seems to be silently sleeping. Grunts of sorrow fill the mournful morning sky.

The small man-beast cries. Behind him tiny fingers clutch his light brown matted hair, muffled sobs slipping from their tiny mouths. He turns, cradling the younglings in his arms; then tightens his embrace, smothering their pain with his till there is a small sense of comfort left.

     A flaming arrow soars above a shimmering pool of water, whistling at its own reflection as it seeks its target. He floats gently in the pond a stark contrast from his own life. Once warrior now rotting corpse. Sword ceremoniously placed upon his chest; arms crossed. The flaming arrow falls. The body is consumed. In the distance a tribe stands stoically holding in tears of sorrow mixed with a tense sense of pride.

     Somewhere in the stone city a poets sings his sad rhymes, echoing the love of a stranger, the wrinkled form now fallen. The people pass in a small procession. He lets their soft sobs fill him up. A young man hands him a coin in gratitude for the melody and the honorable words then walks away his shoulders heavy with grief. His body sags as if the gravity has been multiplied by ten. A little girl sniffs the dry dusty air taking in the oils and perfumes, waiting to see if Hades shows up. The poets passes the newly earned coin to a starving stranger sitting quietly nearby.

Deep south a disfigured body dances in the breeze, swaying in time with the leaves of the tree. A mother wails; she is restrained. Her body, hardened by years of labor, crumbles for a moment. Her brown skin moistened by tears glimmers in the days harsh rays. Shaking with anguish, she struggles against the strength of those she loves. A male voice warns her against the dangers of trying to recover the body. Even so, it takes two grown men to hold her back.

A robed figure stifles his sorrow beneath the strong veil of faith. The restraint takes much of his mental strength leaving him emotionally fatigued. There is a small body laying limply in his arms. Blood paints his loose flowing robes red. His beard is sticky with sweat, sand, and snot. The face of the child is ruptured. That which once enraptured and inspired fatherly love now terrifies. The reality is a massive wound paralleled by the sickening hole in his child’s face. Brittle bone broken and bent sinking inwards as what should be there disappears. All that is left is a mess of flesh and pain. Barely a foot away one brother softly whispers his prayers to Allah on behalf of his nephew.

I close the eyes of my grandfather, or at least I imagine that I close his eyes. I do not have the strength to touch him. I do not know why. I want to pay him some grand respect out of love and gratitude. The guns sound a salute as strangers honor him more than I am able to. A folded flag finds its way into my arms. I am merely holding it for another. I look at my shirt, a weird black button up thing with short sleeves and flames, wishing I had worn something better. I wish I had a poem, or petals, or even a flaming arrow but all I have is this stupidly stunned face numbly staring out at the world.

Suddenly, I feel the softness of tiny furry fingers interlace with mine. Then the music of a foreign language plays in my ears. To the left, a strong brown calloused hand squeezes my shoulder in a statement of compassion. Behind me I feel the pat a powerful palms slapping against my back in pride. In front of me a thin skinned black bearded figure sits on his knees. He lowers his head, hands gently pressing against the ground. He prays, and I hear a beautiful accent in a tongue I cannot comprehend, but I understand the intent. Then the bearded stranger raises his head again, repeating the process a few more time. I nod my head in solemn gratitude.
Asim Javid Jan 2016
A nebulous hope on the silhouette of horizon.
My redeeming font , one sweet poison.
Slowly it obliterated  me ,
branding with ache of reaching.
The ashes of my nous shouting and screeching.
Left with repugnant psyche of an undying hype.
Resplendent hysteria of an antithetic type.
Is it the verity or  nebulous dream.
Is it the silence or vociferous scream.
The part of me desists.
The part of me resists.
To walk the path that leads to decay.
Holding the faith with doubts at bay.
What do I do , to overcome this interlace.
May be I spiflicate the existence , and
   live as Inanimate* .
JWolfeB Jul 2014
The times when our hearts interlace their deepest roots.

That's when I feel the most sober.

When your voice is the honesty I swallow.

That's when I feel the most sober.

The times your eyes promise me an upside down future that you flipped right side up.

That's when I feel most sober.

I want to be sober every moment with you. Because you are my finest form of inebriation.
dana green Aug 2013
In the back of a polish bar we sat

Smoking a foreign brand of cigarettes my lips had never touched
smoking until we ran out.

Me, pretending to be eccentric.

coy

laughter

closing the gaps between the continents we were born
surely we will bring pangea back to her glory

This is my favorite song, I say.
grace is serenading me from across the world

we inch closer together
the warsaw wood panels start to cave us in
i have forgotten about everyone else

Palms glide up thighs
wheat beer slides down the tongues
that wait to interlace

i listen to your kaleidoscope of syllables
we, in your native land, speak in my foreign tongue
i apologize for that.


we are alone in this room, i think.
the night's corners are creeping in
as quickly as our bodies braid.

            our warszawa flame flickers.
-D Sep 2012
"good morning," you said,
as you walked up trottrottrot to my door,
opened the lock with your smile
& let yourself in:

"I promise not to stay,
but I'd like to at least take a glimpse
of the whatif sort of game we play."

& as I unfurled my joy at your arrival
I closed my eyes to picture
just what our whatifs and couldwes would look like:

there would be music,
sweet music,
& your voice would match with my words--
a tenor chorus in cummings' poetry,
a breath of anxious hearts' goodbyes.

for each&everytime; we are draw near to the same place,
we hold our hands up & against each other's,
& we look into each other's eyes
but our fingers never, never, never
interlace.

whatif, whatif, whatif--
so exhausting is this thought,
that I will set it free here in these words,
& I will let you be there with your wideawakeeyes
& your heart that runs its course in the other direction
from where I stand tonight.
L Gardener Aug 2012
You look so warm inside the rays,
I watch them as they dance ballet.
Across your face they pirouette,
until my every worry, I forget.

You kiss each other playfully,
blissfully unaware of me.
Glowing in the afternoon,
Your golden skin, it makes me swoon.
I'm far too mesmerized with you nearby,
watching days pass within your eyes.

You look at me and
I become the hours,
seconds, minutes, it overpowers.
Blinded by a solar flare,
ignitions in the air,
burning all around,
wishing the sun would never go down,
Slow down.

You stick around to watch the sunset,
I start to become a silhouette.
It's getting dark,
until your laugh lights up a spark.

A fire growing on the inside,
Shadows run and hide,
darkness can't survive,
when you're ablaze.

You're a star from outer space,
Rising up to interlace,
the human race.

This I always knew,
is what connected me and you,
and we're connecting all of us.

Call it trust.
Parts of you that can't be seen
illuminate the heart of me.
Bonds of Love

gleaming  dim light of candle glow
backdrop melody is  soft and low
Dancing shadows  gather  no mass
Forgotten wine warm up  in the glass

The tender, soft  pat  of loving hands
What the other desires each understands
passionate lovers persuade to embrace
deep longing  from inner hearts interlace

exhilaration burns away  to a desire
Lips and  eyes  fuel the blaze of  fire
thoughts  hunts for  wishful  lust
Inhibitions fade replaced by trust

The world close out from this thrilling tryst
This rest and each other are all that exist
An cherished bond that transcend the flesh
Where hearts, minds and bodies intermesh

Williamsji Maveli

Email: williamsji@yahoo.com

www.williamsji.com
www.williamsgeorge.com
w­ww.microthemes.com
www.moonmakers.com
The Kallettumakara Gblobal Association (KGA), UAE Chapter has announced their first poetry award for excellence to Williamsji Maveli's  third  poetry collection   titled as “Arramviralthumbath …”  (On the tip of the 6th finger,  published by H & C Books, Trichur) .The award has been declared  by Mathew David, Chairman of KGA at their Executive Committee meeting held recently in Sharjah Emirate of United Arab Emirates.  The award has  also been considered for his poetic works scattered in his recently published book named  as “Maa Salama."  ( means "With peace"  in Arabic). The poems have been gathered from different desert sketches,  focusing on his real-time life experiences ,while he was working in UAE for more than 30 years.  Williamsji, (Williams George),   former Ras Al Khaimah based Journalist and lyricist of tester-years has been nominated for a literary award for the first time for literature. The Award is being formulated by KGA  (Kallettumkara Global Association, UAE Chapter) for  outstanding contributions to literature  from the native writers  of Kallettumkara,  a village town in Trichur, Kerala in India.  The award will be presented by the KGA’s UAE Chapter on the grand occasion of their 11th anniversary, which is being scheduled to be held during November, this year,
according to Mathew David, Chairman of Kallettumkara Global Association.
www.kallettumkara.net
rained-on parade Mar 2018
I.
You walk through these streets
like you think you know what you want.
But tell me honestly,
inside the pockets of your coat
your fingers never uncross,
do they?

II.
I drown you in photographic film
and sometimes I wonder how time
stands still in a painting.
In the middle of the bazaar, you stood
like a painting
while people moved around you
like an overexposed reel of film
and time still stands still to this day

III.
You're coughing it all out; winter
on your lips and spring in your lungs.
Drink me.
I am a tincture of a daydream.
The sun is always brighter, my dear.

IV.
Our hands interlace in the darkness
and melt away with the consequences of time.
You are a bottle of something precious.
Put me to sleep, sing
me to sleep.

V.
Undo the buttons of your dress
and wear away with the night.
Shed this old layer of skin
and something about rebirth
we can tell beautiful lies
but how long before the bread soaks up the milk
and the blood on the carpet
seeps into
the wood.

VI.
The ice on the lake
can't hold up this dream anymore.
You're a hallucination
and all I needed.
I don't know if I'll ever finish this.
W Winchester Sep 2015
He gets off
on watching you
with me

You made him ***
when he saw you
underneath me

His hand in his pants
when he saw you
covered in hickeys
from me

Do you remember
when he begged
to watch you
interlace your tongue
with mine

You made him moan
when you were on your back,
*******, by me

He loves to watch you
*with me.
This one has been trying to write itself for a long time now. And no, it's not about you actually.
Right at this very moment
there isn't much on this Earth I'd rather do
than interlace our fingers
and look into eachother's eyes
  and nip at your ears, collarbone and neck
as I make sweet, passionate Love
to you.
For a beautiful and lovely muse.
GaryFairy Oct 2015
it must be in my composition
composing lines of opposition
opposing the forces of inhibition
inhibiting me, and my mission

maybe the reason for my creation
creating lines of aspiration
aspiring to give my own translation
translating thoughts into formulation

=========thesis of completion============

i was made from the pavement of places
where faces are vacant of any translation
i interlace traces of those wasted cases
as a way of portraying their lost salvation

i speak from the streets of broken pieces
where the weak sleep in the heat of depletion
i seek to find some peace in my thesis
where these creatures reek of completion
i decided to throw in the second poem because i thought it kind of related to why i write...which, is what my mission statement series is all about
Terri L Smith Nov 2012
The darkness fell and never left,
        The rain came beating to the ground,
As somberly he looked, bereft,
        At Father who made not a sound
        And Mother lost to all around,
He made a pledge, an oath of hate,
      And ne’er to break his word was he;
Protect all others from this fate,
      Not to allow misdeeds to be:
      Destroy all wrong that he could see
By taking down immoral men,
      By any means and any form
So his days were spent, but then,
      His heart still craved for loving; warm
      Bodies to interlace, perform -
Almost like a dream she came,
     A woman born not of this Earth,
Diana Prince, her given name,
     And he knew not of her real worth,
     Or of the true place of her birth;
He found himself in lustful daze,
      Watching as she flicked her hair,
Smiled in most adoring ways,
      He knew this thing he could not share
      Thus the two became a pair -
Though both hid a secret deep,
      Neither one prepared to say
And both their silence they did keep,
      Until the one most momentous day
      When fate had its own hand to play;
In mortal danger they were found,
      Roped around in knots and ties
By wicked creatures underground,
      At last their secrets they described,
      Identities they’d dared to hide;
She had her doubts of baring truths,
      But knew her lover understood
Why she had been made to choose
     Although all that she did was good,
     A choice made to evade spilled blood;
He told her of that fearful night
     When as a child his parents died
And left him in this world to fight
     Alone; in the mansion he’d reside,
     His want and need for love denied,
He told of his cape, his helm, and cave,
     She of inherent power,
Neither flustered, both were brave
    In face of their darkest hour,
    And bells rang out from Gotham’s tower
Declaring that now it was time;
    The two of them combined must fight,
And brave they fought against the crime,
    Cloaked, hidden under dark of night
    Until the dawn of morning light;
The end of the battle now was near,
    A thousand men lay lost, defeated
And Gotham’s citizens did cheer,
    As speedily the rest retreated
   The dark of Batman's heart depleted.
Martin Narrod Jan 2017
The cold is my commander, it taunts me, while it steals my sheaths of warmer cleaving skin sections exposed by its notions and collected conscious. The sounds are complicated, the moons azurean hue resembles the coldness of my cigarette's embers blue, and then the commander shucks my final breath away. It isn't something that I barely feel, but rather something that lightly see. It's hoarfrost births its fickle shell of hardrime on the last of those interstices I once called my fingers. And from this choke, this frozen voice is detained by the vox ice amplifier that steals each noise. Besides, in an interruption I hear our whorish neighbors score of shouting scripted shouts, and screaming scripted screams. Each day she becomes less and less like any real human being. It's hard to believe that behind these walls that shield me from the albicant and atrocious heraldry winter casts me through, these sounds are concentric like limited Earth words written in the prompts that some ill and wanton succubus would. If only to lure herself from the pains she gained while lying to those amidst her closest ties. I am further distressed, though fully dressed narrowly watching bits of frozen water interlace themselves beneath freezing in the corners of my mind. When until the shaking and commandeering of my mortal sounds, disperse amidst the ferocity that Spring white snow absconds. The tremulent vocal chords are hailed by a hard-rimed ****, who ensuingly rips the cantering spirit from each last place it stood. Only those who know this wind could speak about the way it genuflects and obsesses on these rules. This freezing genuflection hails to every servant of its rein, I can barely exhale the inspiration that rises from the head, until any skin exposed to air is reclaimed by my commander for good. Then each neighbor's head may lilt upon the piste, and pray for something more balmy than negative eleven degrees.

— The End —