"rung" poems
I saw the morning dew betwixt thine thighs
as I removed my source of Grecian power,
as if King Midas dared to touch the skies,
upon thy body fell a golden shower.
Thy body's temples, two church bells had rung
upon thy chest, a row of pearls bestowed.
The sun had set, thy set with wary hung
I thought, "How black a night, and blue a lode!"
I said, "What light through yonder ****** breaks?
It is the yeast!" And now my belly's yellow.
My pole gives cause to storms and earthy quakes,
but 'tis not massive, I am no Othello.
And when that final moment came to pass,
like Christ I came a-riding on an ***
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
#there are the ones
that feel it climb up
the shadow towards the light,
hesitation on every rung,
each wave of the arising
overwhelms unabated ―
and woe betides those
who are on the run
from a storm's deluge
A rousing ocean breeze
stirs inside the memory
of an unframed seashell
lying on the hearth mantel;
heightened sensitivity
lapping soundlessly,
spindrift plashing
the shoreline
of another world's
feigned peace
Perhaps the muted voice
of guilty pleasures,
hushed by their own
hidden truths
Feeling the unfelt textures
of every stifled vibration
left unbreathed
The naked truth befallen
so cold and lonely
Running in circles,
volatile as all those
unspoken excitations raging ―
and the whispers of those
who hear not
the voices in the wind
An emotionally enslaved heart
tarries, marooned high and dry
in a memory on a distant sand bar
lain fallow for so long ―
stagnant darkness
of an unsated soul
gathered on the back
of a parched tongue
sullied wordless
Rising up through
a dusty hieroglyph corridor
through an unlocked
labyrinth gate; vestige echoes
from somewhere left behind
in an incomprehensible
abandoned wake
It's getting harder and harder
for an insatiable soul to breathe ...
climbing up a tree trunk―
up within the silence
of the listening tree
Toes dug into
the rough bark furrows ―
fingers reaching upwards
beyond their deepest known grasp
A shadow stranded
out on a hangin' bough
hearkening without ears that hear:
“perhaps they’ll listen now“
the wingless bird sings
in psalms that fly away
on tattered feathers
over untamed waters roil
Back to nature’s waning youth,
the bough bends unbroken
to taste the freedom
of the wild absolving seas
Jesse Stillwater
June 2018
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
I clash into my fabric,
Like it's the waters of a bath.
Behold the ripples from my fingers,
Before I walked upon their path.
Pills are skipping stones,
That land at unsteady feet.
I'm falling, or I'm drowning,
Sleeping with torture underneath.
With Carnations at the bedside,
The yellow won't change my hue.
For their inexplicit meanings,
Are wrapped in dripping blue.
And the taps rung through my head,
Were the bath; now forming puddles.
You asked how I had left,
But you didn't notice the bubbles
---------------------------------------------------
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
The ladder,
The one I’m forced to climb.
A lack of friction, I seem to find,
As I take the rung into my fingers.
And the vertigo sensation lingers.
I know my lesson,
Why should I persist?
Brace my feet, step up, and
Slip.
The question:
Should I give up
And fall regardless?
Or continue
And say I tried this?
With this knowledge, then,
What good is
The latter?
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 1:49 PM UTC
Christmas is traditions
some last and others die
some leave you feeling fuzzy
others leave you asking "Why?"
There's rules that must be followed
And most of them we know
About gifts and cards and Christmas trees
and then there's mistletoe....
We all know the tradition
We all know what it is
You meet under the berries
And then you both must kiss
But, there's etiquette surrounding
The dreaded mistletoe
And there are things you aren't aware of
And I thought you all should know....
Always kiss your Aunties
Do it quick and on the cheek
Their lips are full of slobber
and sometimes they just reek
Grandmas, get a quick kiss
And ignore the sounds they make
Don't hug Grannies too tightly
They are brittle and might break
Avoid the pervert Uncles
With hands and eyes that roam
They act one way at Christmas
And another way at home
The little kids, won't kiss you
So, it's fun to give them chase
Make sure there's lots of slobber
So, they can wipe it off their face
Make sure kissing Grandad
That he has got his teeth
That they're not somewhere in a glass
or worse, smiling from a wreath
Always kiss your Mum though
Beware, Mums will always cry
and they will get you going too
No matter how hard you try
Kiss the one you came with
Let them know just how you feel
That your love for them's eternal
And your love for them is real
Kissing is tradition
and at Christmas can be great
But, don't kiss all the women
And forget about your date
The most important rule of all
If you don't want your bell rung
When kissing 'neath the mistletoe
DO NOT USE THE TONGUE
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
oh yes, I remember when I was just a lad,
I was really quite bad.
I remember this one fall,
I drove my parents up the wall.
Up in the air the conversation flew,
And to annoy them more I answered with a "mew".
As I climbed the stairs and up into my room,
I slammed the door with a loud 'boom!'.
I stomped so loud on the floor,
And thought "oh, what a boor!'.
And up the stairs my parents sprung,
Their nattering in my ears rung.
I kicked and lashed out, not knowing what would happen next,
As I looked down, I thought I was hexed!
For if you stomp and kick,
You will be changed quite a bit...
Long grey ears grew high above my head,
"Help, help me!" I plead.
Hooves grew down to the floor,
And I gasped as I saw...
The little boy was no more.
Frantically I looked to my parents who said,
"I thought this would happen, I guess you need a new bed."
Now the boy is no more,
My parents bought a farm with a large moor.
And I help out more now,
As my job is pulling a plough!
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 11:14 AM UTC
I walked past old, dead, trees
And into an old, abandoned park
I glanced at the huge, old tree
At the decayed bark
I returned my eyes to the playground
Then checked my watch
Five minutes till midnight
Then they will begin their march
I sat on an old, broken swing
Staring into the dark
Then there was that familiar ring
That rung throughout the park
I hid under the slide
So I couldn't be taken
Then they left
Leaving me to play
Momma would worry about my land of play
But I ignored that
Crawled out into the night
I sat on my swing
Looking in the dark
My midnight playground
Isn't as magical as it seems
A horrifying destination
That clouds my dreams
But I am cursed to forever find myself here
At the twelve hour
Terrifyingly dangerous
I forever walk alone
To my midnight playground
Since the age of three
Now I am thirteen
The monsters roam freely
I only depend on me
I can not leave this cursed place
Until the next night
But remains night as the moon holds still
I was forced to remove people by ****
But that was ten years ago
I do it on my own
This place disappears when I escape
It holds the remains of the bodies
Just to haunt my soul
I get called by its whispers
Telling me to follow
Then I find myself approaching
It's gate of the marrow
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
The wise are always troubled
And the troubled seldom sleep.
For the path is dark,
The shadow's deep.
The past imparts pressure,
Weary woe-marked feet.
The pillow lays drenched.
Sweat beads billow flames of fear.
The sound of all our choices
Rung clear for all to hear.
The cries of countless voices
Found close to passing ears
But ghosts weep most in whispers,
Lest the living hear their tears.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
I was struck
on the day of extinction
I was confused
on the day of elimination
the seashells rung
in it's glorious tune
but it seems our opponent
is not immune
So we win the battle
because of the seashells
joyous rattle
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
Vague is the feeling, dark is the delight, feared is the memory of your cold dead sight.
Your love was killed by the twisted moonlight.
I remember hazel brown eyes reversed into a song, a Melodie of skies.
I can see the colors now burst in the air and up above so tender was the forbidden love.
I now ponder in amazement towards the moonlight sky.
An embrious scatter of stars lay in the earths bound movement, slowly, cautiously I begin to wonder.
But only to the moonlight dancer.
I have heard your voice and I have seen your face, but only for it to bring back a tattered trace.
I remember when all was good.
I remember when you use to love me the way that you should.
I watched you walk away slowly with these words only a trickle on my tongue.
With a "good...bye" your voice had rung.
Those words lay pasted down to my heart and glued.
Moonlight dancer come back to my hand, moonlight dancer take me to your rythmatic land, moonlight dancer take my hand.
Her coldness piercing my heart, her absence tore me apart, and now her funeral to only end me.
Please come back and defend me.
Slowly the blade slit across my wrist in a song like structure.
I let the music flow down from the wound, and now my mind it will consume.
I'm lost and in love by moonlight dancers song.
Where else could I have gone wrong?
Moonlight dancer come back to my hand, moonlight dancer take me to your rythmatic land, moonlight dancer take my hand.
Moonlight dancer just please breath once again.
Moonlight dancer?
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 9:36 PM UTC
Sundays, too, she got up early and let her feet lead her through the dusty alleys of that small town
It was a luxury to have this kind of time alone, silence was vital food for her soul
Enduring the weekday demands to relish a few hours of nothingness, rare meditation,
An escape from a world of momentary necessity
The sweet morning air that kissed one’s skin now turned heavy and stagnant
Back down again through the same storied streets that,
Had become unbearably hot by the noon-day sun, the pace of life slowed accordingly
A weight came over her, the sort of fatigue where every exhaustible cell in your body yearns for rest
She would wander all day if she could, meandering over ground hallowed by history
By now the shadows of the afternoon had casted their long, lanky bodies behind the old chalk buildings
The pulse of life reached a complete pause, as if away on vacation in a more hospitable place
Everything bent, decaying, surrendering to the heat, and everything marked in contrast by the sun’s glare
Here, she stands straight and strong, gazing into the burning face of the oppressor and giver of life
And deny it the desire to win this vague war of attrition
When rung out on the floor she’d smell of autumn and satisfaction
Speaking to me she’ll tell of the faith in self, strength in solitude, and love of something greater than we dare to know.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:59 AM UTC
*break
astonishment at perception
of
a third-world child making it
up that totem-pole
amidst paltry conditions
even
beyond the half-way mark*
1.
a standing man
in silent message
and the woman in red
with thin-sling shoulder-bag
holding lipstick, weekly-ticket and purse
oh, how she frightens honchos out their skull
draped round her sister's head
shroud eternal
coughing
sore
2.
grannies recount lively griot-tales
where hope is never barren
young boys play in swamped dirt-trails
drawing absent father-figures in the sand
the wind has carried them off to mines
deep in the crust of earth's ire
adolescent future sits on labour-farms
where keen spirit is dulled with worthless hops
keeps the sly farmer happy
and he tells them the fruit is free
yet they've already paid for it
manifold
when she reaches twenty
she will have at least two kids
whose lives lie in the granny's luxury
while she runs off to the golden city-lites
to jump through higher hoops
for ****** spoils
all cheapened by long-term neglect
3.
there lies hope
unlost
in every girl-child
who goes to school
who finds encouragement
from words kindly given
if but from a stranger
*no hand-me-outs
no forlorn begging*
she...
the empowered mother of boys
will
help them to grow
into young men
of such sensibility
as to keep their hands
to deeds of honour
who, in turn
become fine fathers to daughters
they love and cherish
raise to be
luminary
*each step up
from that totem-pole
such a steep climb
strengthens invisible wings
and unworldly rewards
and when final rung is reached
heralds
untainted take-offffffff*......
S T, 27 aug
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 11:01 AM UTC
Lost, locked in a whirlwind,
Trying to pull myself out,
I'll grab anything but your hand,
The road less traveled by,
Was the familiar route.
Lost in the quicksand of your eyes,
A beautiful pool of mud,
Rung my heart out to dry.
Forced whispers inside my head,
"Try! Try!" They all said.
How do you cherish, shield, and protect
property that isn't nestled on your deck?
How do you love, care, and cradle
Something thats not on the table?
If you think I wrote this about you,
Then it's most definitely true,
That adoration, affection affected
By endless alteration in the depths of my heart
Leave me with no other choice
Then to ask, "Where do I start?"
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
~ Moon Fire ~
*de Luna climbs up
majestic fir brows
one rung at a time
to feel the shiver
of winter breeze
tickle higher
than treetops reach
.
where moonbeams
know the meaning
the shadows cast
upon the open palms
of nature’s hands
her halo encircles
a shapeless luster
beyond
the faint whispers
in northern skies
wishing on
the nearest stars,
set ablaze
a smoldering heart
grown cold
as ...
the last winter moon
full and bright*
wild is the wind © 2.22.2016
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
I fathom fatherhood
His invincible feats
When that magnanimous shadow danced
Bowing his head lowly
And my cryptic looks
Staring that pugnacious shadow
To what he's been unearthing for
A little later in the twilight of dusk
My drooling curiosity burnt in persistence
As I observed a twinkling toddler
Following the lead of his father
With merry- go rounds and exciting swings
As docile as a lamb
He embraced his daddy
Cause that was his world's best swing
And then blew his index finger in air
Spinning around everywhere
The father introduced the whole world
Without shutting him up
The next half hour passed away
And there temple bells rang
And wind blew
Everything became grave
A reverberation echoed
Together with temple bells
Rung the devotional clap
Of a son
And his father...
Worshipping..
Never ever can I fathom
The unconditional fatherly love..
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
As the hazy summer days flew by
My heart still sang a lover's song
Longing to retrieve pieces of a broken heart
Perhaps forge anew withing another's arms
But there simply is not enough time, the summer was dying.
Much like the blazing fire within my soul
Deep pensive thoughts,
Concocted by this newly acquired sense of maturity,
Took hold of my mind
As the winter's grasp took my heart.
All the while the scent of old textbooks, chlorine, and dead flowers
Fueled my life.
My legs were tired after constantly running.
One boy to another
And the embers begin to die.
No longer does my heart desire the affection of another
Why run to the beach?
Why try again?
It all ends in pain.
The long hours of talking on the phone
Sharing secrets
Learning all there is to know about another
Loving.
Loving all there is to love and getting your soul torn?
No, I quit this cruel game.
Months pass and I am still hiding in the deep corners of my mind
Trusting another with my emotions?
What insanity
I can trust myself, and myself alone
The snow starts to fall and the cold reaches my core.
I am alone.
My fault? Perhaps
I just gave up on the game of 'love'
But all it really takes is little spark
To make a fire once more.
The new year is rung in with a bonfire under the stars
Notes, cards, flowers...everything
All up in flames.
I watch my old year ablaze before my eyes
And scratch open into a new notebook
"2013"
The blank pages stare back at me
As I ponder which words to embellish the skin with
More deep thoughts...
What do I want?
Having ignored all social aspects of my life,
I was happy.
Good grades, friends at my disposal, decent swim team times
As my thoughts continued
I ignored the feeling building up in my throat.
"Nobody loves you."
Independent, strong, beautiful, cunning, intelligent...
Sure when you brake it down I have a lot going for me.
But to take all these qualities
Have someone love your every flaw, bizarre habit, and womanly curve...
An impossible task.
And so I put my faith in the starts
Asking the universe for a miracle.
And then I waited.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 12:35 AM UTC
There is a ladder that I climb
And climb I shall through all of time
The wood is rough and splintery
And so the task is hard, you see
And as I climb my arms grow weak
My bones, like the rungs, bend and creak
Sometimes resolve abandons me
My head goes down and I can't see
When climbing in this careless way
I lose my hold and slip away
So, quickly I fall ten feet down
I tell myself to not look down
I grab hold of the rung again
Then meditate and rest my chin
The rung has now a coat of slime
It feels I'll slip another time
I push the thought out of my head
For if I fall, then I'll be dead
I wipe away the dreadful slime
And climb again, step at a time
And though the top I'll never see,
I keep my gaze ahead of me.
"Why do you climb", a man once asked
"...If you cannot complete the task?"
"There are two worlds", I said to him
"...And one of them is filled with sin
Within that world, you'll find no light
Your soul is bound by fear and spite
In the other, you can see
Your heart's made whole and you are free
The line between these worlds is broad
That is the world on which we trod
But even here amidst our strife
You'll find there are two sides of life
We start between and go one way
By choices we make every day
This road we take is gradual
We slowly fall as blinded fools
Unless we climb the other way
And so please hear these things I say
As I climb, the light gets brighter
And the load on me becomes much lighter
The truth's revealed and my heart made full
As I climb away from sin's dark rule
So, where's this ladder that I climb?
He's here; take hold. He's yours and mine"
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
Valhalla is not only where warriors reside
Valhalla is also for those who commit suicide
All struggles are seen all sacrifices excepted
The Valkyrie watch over all battles internal and external and make sure none are rejected
In the great halls songs are sung
The great bells are rung
Wolves and foxes and gods and elves, all are welcome there
For Valhalla welcomes all and there is no ill will to bare
Valhalla is calling
Darkness is falling
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 1:36 AM UTC
I saw the morning dew betwixt thine thighs
As I removed my source of Grecian power
As if King Midas dared to touch the skies
Upon thy body fell a golden shower
Thy body's temples, two church bells had rung
Upon thy chest, a row of pearls bestowed
The sun had set, thy set with wary hung
I thought, "How black a night and blue a lode"
I said, "What light through yonder ****** breaks?
It is the yeast"
And now my belly's yellow
My pole gives cause to storms and earthy quakes
But 'tis not massive, I am no Othello
And when that final moment came to pass
Like Christ I came-a riding on an ***
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC
Perched upon the tip of the volcano, the Phoenix begins to spread its wings.
Villagers in the town below see its magnificent beauty and begin to sing
"Oh Phoenix above oh so high, spread your wings so that they may graze the sky"
"Save us from the demons that plague our minds"
"Remove this unwanted darkness and replace it with light"
The town’s people chanted this song in hopes that the mighty Phoenix would indeed answer their prayers.
But alas the Phoenix had plans of its own.
It did in fact graze the sky with its sun scorched wings, but failed in removing the townspeople's demons.
Again and again the townspeople sang praised their mighty God, but still no answer had rung.
The mighty Phoenix perched upon its throne had spread its wings and began to fly
Out of the townspeople's vision straight into the sky
A mighty explosion burst through the clouds and everyone in unison let out a cry
"What was that? Did our god die?"
Unsure of what truly happened the townspeople began their chant once more
"Oh Phoenix above oh so high, spread your wings so that they may graze the sky"
"Save us from the demons that plague our minds"
"Remove this unwanted darkness and replace it with light"
As they finished their prayer, something happened so instant
The demons had fled and the light poured throughout the land and into the distance
The people cheered, some started to cry
For the mighty Phoenix sacrificed itself for their lives
Tales of this beast soon spread without warning
Passed down from generation to generation
So that all may hear of the creature that saved the people from themselves
So that they may never again live in fear of both their minds and the unknown that lived in the darkness
They started a new chant in honor of their savior
"Oh mighty Phoenix sacrificed itself for us"
"Flew into the sky so that we may live fulfilling lives"
"We honor your death by helping one another begin to flourish"
Shortly after the death of their God the townspeople moved to a new land and started anew
With the Phoenix living within the heart of every single person
Just as the townspeople were leaving their village
A small child looked back and began to say
"This chapter of my life has come to an end"
"And soon a new chapter of my life will be written"
"I'm afraid we will no longer be together you and I"
"For you cast yourself into an explosion that shook the sky"
"Goodbye my dear guardian, may you rest in peace"
"When we get to our new home, we will honor you with a feast"
The townspeople went to live their lives now renewed
Au revoir my dear reader, for this is the beginning of something beautiful.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Tell me a time
U needed me
A time u grabbed ur phone
2 text me.
Have u ever rung me
In the depths of the night
Just to hear my voice
In the darkness?
U could say u had
U could tell me u need me
But I’d see our messages
Or rather, my messages:
The lines and lines
Of my words,
Calling ur name,
That go on for miles.
Punctuated by one of urs
A smile :)
Or a word
And nothing more.
How can ily
When u never respond?
How can I be obsessed
When there’s nothing:
No message
For me to obsess over.
Ily
But u never,
ever reply :(
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 2:18 PM UTC
We have heard the words they preach
The Gospel carpetbaggers teach
That some of us can make their own rules.
Any white people that don’t are fools.
They redefine the meaning of equality
The gladly withhold my rights from me.
They choose what part of good is good
And happily red-lined my neighborhood.
Don’t wave your seditionist flag at me/
I believe in liberty, equality ad fraternity.
Your rhetoric is a disguise of old John Birch.
If I want to hear your hateful sermon
I prefer to have to go to your church.
They think us blind and cannot see
That they openly abhor equality.
They say one thing in the South
Up north they use another mouth,
And speak with a totally forked tongue
And push half the race down a rung.
They cry like they have all been hurt
But it is they who treat the rest like dirt.
Don’t wave your seditionist flag at me/
I believe in liberty, equality ad fraternity.
Your rhetoric is a disguise of old John Birch.
If I want to hear your hateful sermon
I prefer to have to go to your church.
There is no difference from your chant
And the Inquisition’s deadly cant.
These punishing words out of you
Are ages old, they are not new.
If Jesus were here to hear you start
This ugly talk, it would break his heart.
Don’t wave your seditionist flag at me/
I believe in liberty, equality ad fraternity.
Your rhetoric is a disguise of old John Birch.
If I want to hear your hateful sermon
I prefer to have to go to your church.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
Gates climb
News and paraphernalia
Modern communication
Internet on vacation
Today, rural Australia
Goes awol in valleys, hills
As seeking when hiding
Frustration biding
Trees, various pitfalls
An Insufficient population
Say Cannot build towers
Excuses bely hours
Trying, for connection
Work with what's known
Try cavalier solutions
It's the execution
When, creativity shown
First try computer waving
Above head I'm shaking
Signal not taking
Despite, the swaying
Next option lying on floor
Hint of access, fleeting
Patchy greeting
So slow, won't store
Then stand on top of bed
Try to reach high ceiling
Wobbly feeling
Response, still lead
Despite heat, go outside
The temperature violent
Connection silent
If Home far, just beside
Time past, similarly stung
Found access best rate
The paddock gate
Balancing, top rung
Troop to gate hopes keen
As Searing heat, metal
Stand and settle
Tightly, cradle machine
Process long, time lost
A Connection success
Finally access
But who, counts cost?
Eventually, its loaded mail
As Balancing hold keen
Humorous scene
As Sway, in light pale
Internet access by Gates
Not Bill, Steve, Microsoft
Hung steel aloft
So basic, surely debates
Climbing for a signal now
Is the practical response
Sadly ensconced
As Rural, area know how
But surely it must be time
When access essential
Internet critical
Yet today, gates climb
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
I've quit the killing-
another addiction
my convictions
are open bare.
forgetting what its like,
to deal with stress and the like
without nicotines merciful smile
perfect timing i would say
now that math makes up my days
and work the latter of my nights
i've no form for this urge
that pulls inside
rung out like a sponge
wanting water.
elixir of toxins
heath risks
and iron lungs
chained and yet
so free.
how long can i resist your cough?
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
Stink up the beer house with unadorned putrid self-thoughts.
Poppy-eyed and hating others is easy for blue bottled buggers.
A sweet thing for you!
A growing circle of six-legged empty.
Filled to the brim with puffed up space. A white brim with a shiny red exoskeleton.
Oh, what a dreadful sight!
Hair strewn across a face and hooked into the teeth of the blushy lullabied insect screech.
Clear liquid not blood, but blood all the same on an empty stomach with full vein-shot bones.
Not milky bones with calcium-love..
A dead, deficient, cracked, neglected, insufficient skeletal frame, limp.
Yellowed with hate-smoke and old book notes.
Splintered, crazed and buzzed through the gridded bulging eye-window of every single one of those insect like Self-Loathers.
Chosen out of pure sympathy "We should talk more"
.......To the sun, the moon and the stars?
Every star mocks,
Every beam scoffs
and every moon likes to deride on the pain that hides beneath the lies of human bug eyes.
A simply formed pound of vertebrate flesh leaks soft plasma on the scaly moth floor.
Oh how we are dusty and unsure!
Forestry consisting of a Sitka Spruce and of a Japanese Larch was a claim I made from the start.
Over gardens of attention arachnid lurking selfish bugs and even those half winged "friend people".
The bell has rung the scariest of chimes and with every soul wrenching 'ding' a furry fang digs at the blotchy eyed, softly fleshed girl.
Oh such a sweet thing to be surrounded by selfish bugs who spin webs with tear stained tissues!
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC