Upon his glottal’s larynx spreads a lingual deformity. Isolation as a result from tuggo disaffiliates. Misshapen promontory in the direction of upper-body inflammation. Not only above torso alone, location;head/injury;mouth/main informative;tongue.
The boy’s tongue was permanently horned. A horn of 18 inches shy, where taste buds formulate, he owned a lone spike. He wasn’t abraded by the unfoldment of onlookers around. His irregular attachment was a main confidant. Criticized, he was not welcomed by towns near. Citizen’s were baffled and disgusted, ridiculing him daily, he did not impale with grieve over appearance. Enmity he wanted and craved. Among the works of flesh, square inch niches, repugnance revealed. Revenge, revenge. Vindictive spirit shelled so timely and calm. Remaining this state of sumptuous integrity made him stronger each go about. These goes were so stimulus, adding to the *** of hatred. Deep into the tundra’s most vile he intruded. Went so every month or few, for weeks at a time. For this sheet of rigid earth so contiguous to the town made the worried weary, the skeptical seared, and the nautical not so knitted with directional sense. This was his consummation of gathering. The place of being a being. The dry winter amid eight months was restricted, so the moment a due mustn’t be bothered. He had his reason of validness for course. A rich succulent from the bearings of plant life on cliffs. Repelling an obstacle such as was ludicrous for even one born the ever so adequate and society defined norm. Now having a tongue with a horn, some sought might as well die to be reborn. He had to, to stay alive. The liquid, which sit so treacherous, was the mold to mouth medicine. To speak at all it must be attained. Not only a curdling death trap waiting to swallow, the boy had to get a plentiful amount for the hard hitting winters collied. His tongue could swell like the storms, loud crimson on the esophagus. To die of asphyxiation was his dodge of ultimatum.
While passing by a local television in a thrift shop-
“Today’s Newscast: Blizzards, moving in at speeds of 94 mph. Predicted to cover like a blanket for 12 months. Ice Age relative people, this one is gonna be big! Stay indoors at night, the barometric’s indicate that from 9PM to 4AM temperatures as low as 28- will stouten for the next year. Once again people, stay indoors at these hours, get your needs when available. Back to you Ronda with the quintuplets birth today!”
Plucked and grit witted he stood. He felt the trepidation of abhorrence swaying in orbit around him. How to emanate from this delay? At least five clones of self did not exist for him. Merriment struct pro, while the cons derived from which they know. Exultation when despondent, how greatly that gift could gab. Despoilment of that, he weighed options out. To altercate thick snow or simply, let it go. Afraid to die unrivaled, the off cutting is wisest. Since his first second to now he’s flourished with his horn. Obliteration to the occulted manifestation mannered as an antique replica of anyone catching him by twice by day. Remove it, remove it, remove if you want life in your years that follow. Remove it, ever so. Remove it, cut and sew. Cut and sew. Remove.
This plateau poisoned place stay calm, anticipating climate of tempest bold reaches, anyone who was anyone was not so. Negative degrees. How could he retaliate the opposite, while acquiring a surgeon field hay day buck builder? Eruption turns the wave of cons. An only equal precision, deciding, tonight is the night. To assemble the tools, publicly was questionable, no more, through. He will emerge to the lands and people a new man, sustained, and hornless. No more. From scratch he will vender what’s needed. Wood was chiseled under the last moon viewed for three sixty three days ahead. Uprooted vines of old pine will hold the bark tight. Breath revealing around the outsides of his appendage. Like a fork in the road, which way can you go, for him air strides both. Scuffling fearful towards the pike of the tundra, he is where wanted by none. A be all end all as you could alleviate ones slightest sympathy, the courage it takes, ****** immense. His sweat was not seen, but there it consists. One hand grappled around his earthly dagger, tongue positioned in an outward arrangement. Travail glowing all over him as an aura unlanguid with no disruption veering. Abound now, without great weight on his shoulders, he’s lived. Ascending keen eyes towards the blood bath around his feet, going both ways around the fork and road. After relinquishing his steady gavel, the checking of his pulse is counted. 5, 6, 7, 8, seconds, still life to live. For the very first ritual to come, placed in his mouth, the tongue. The rigid roof so unfamiliar and new he bestowed in his joy of such a common flank. The tundra felt warm as he inside let over pour. Once more a milder gasp as he vociferates to the last moon for the year. On his peak, and favored place of being, he let out his tongue. Sharp inclement so hawkish and frosted he felt. The lilliputian of no pain, heeded by first snow to wane.

the previous listener, who did so faintly and in a manner foreign to me, sat reasonably as I do now, or perhaps lain starry and jaded on some soft lawn riddled with the paused movements of those who watched, clouded with distraction, the life of a sweet nothing drown in descent from above as they cheered and screamed for it, for that meaningless treasure tainted by the vanity of their own desire, ignorant of the listener, of her own treasure then forming, as something warm and enduring in the seat of her chest, something to brood, to analyze, to cherish for a length, at great odds with the fleet and trivia that so dominated the struct of their noire.

but the listener had none of this, gulfed from the shaking and pressing, shielded the same from its symbol and write, opting to push for those few golden moments most certainly approaching her as the rest wraithed past, softly and shyly granting the scarcest and most shamefully starved of treelines, roadways and ballparks and wire staff, knowing but keeping that the few she would most deeply and fondly remember would be just these.

and so the listener and her lover stood past, sweeping over the artificial earths with little concern, not pausing or skipping for a moment to witness the wonder in the world around them and to soak up some indefinable fraction of its infinite offerings. from lain block to patch grass they strode, searching for their one moment, for that which so surely stood staunch and unmoving at some near point in their passage, but which always seemed to elude them, to taunt and hang and cackle in the face of their steadily growing contempt.

and then, as the crowd deserted their peaks for the safe and steady and trough, allowing those moments of elation to slip from them with ease, the listener let likewise all that was precious to her from her grasp, and fell into a similar place, one of deserted lows and recollections of the brightness that lay behind, of those very moments that felt their way independently into her heart and her soul, and left her love beside her, forever looking up into the dark.

This girl man.. Something amazing..

Her beauty was mind boggling..
A smile that could grasp the attention of every man or woman in the room..

Whether it was envy from woman or the lustful temptation from men, she always had eyes on her..

She had gazing eyes that struct you, making you fall in love at sight.. Trapping you in an everlasting heart throb..

A body of a goddess.. Luscious cocoa butter skin with thick voluptuous thighs..  The true meaning of Mona Lisa ..

As we grew closer to each other, I begin to notice something different about this woman..  Although she was astounding on the outside....  she damaged on the inside...

A beautiful sculpture across the room.. But you dont notice until you get too close that she is damaged..

The party girl.. Taking shots back to back like she was doing backstrokes.. Careless, no ambition.. Living life on the edge..

She says "I must advise you, I am stamped with an invisible warning.. Will not commit.. Despite my best efforts, I'm beginning to feel some small cracks in my faux finish."

Unattached, free as a bird.. Doesn't depend on nobody, & no one depends on her..she doesn't have peace of mind.

She was Untamed beauty..

That smell is in the air.
The one that stands your hairs on end.
It narrows your focus and sharpens you wits
with just the right kind of wrong.
The hunt is on.
Should I rush in like a simpleton?
An ignorant ***, how crass
No. Sneaky, sly, and quick
easy and slick.
Lick the taste and smell that smell.
How hot is the fire in hell?

I've got a sixth sense for these things.
It brings a pain so low I know so very well.
THE CHASE! ahh...the taste.......
It moistens the lips with a primitive urge my ancestors command.
The persuasive beauties blossom
with tight skin squeezed between their cotton confines.
They beg me to set them free.
So innocently they burn down the walls I've built of love and devotion.

The notion has struct, the match is lite
A fire burns in my eyes.

the clouds were
troubling
her again.
but like a
roof over
her head, he
makes the clouds
disappear.
but caves and
roofs and struct-
ures and build-
kings collapse
even the
sturdiest
structures will
break. even
you will break.
but breaking,
at times, is
positive.
because when
you break, you
find those who
truly care
about you.
I care abo-
ut you dear.
darling, you
seem so strong.
but when will
the pressure
get to be
too heavy
for you? when
you break, I
wanna be
there. I wish
to see your
fragile bones
snap under
the pressure
that has been
accumu-
lating for
years. almost
as an "i-
told-you-so."
you will break.
I wanna
watch you snap
and break and
crumble. you
will, I know
you will. ev-
entual-
ly. and I
will be there
to watch and
to help. even
though I want
to see you
break, I don't
want you to
break. I just
need to know
you feel in-
side. do you
have a heart?
do you feel
things? I need
to see you
break; I need
to have proof.

This face, this phaze, this fus-if-i-can't-ation,

see me
the de ift sign
signed
sig
nift

ab
sent, not here, else
where

who were you up there?
up there
where

all this you and me being began,
who
were you
up there?

God.I'd guess, but tha's a cultural


con
struct, they say, God the way I imagined
since
I remember, until now

when you ask me a reason for the faith
in me
and

I say reason, per se,
the thing,
faith, itself as it hapts t' be in me, y' see.
I be letting that be my

answer, when asked
to give a reason for the faith in me, y'see.

"That is my wife... And this is what I wish to have... look at the difference! ... then judge me... and remember, with what judgement ye judge ye shall be judged!"

-- Jane Eyre


It was a cold autumn night,
When the sky is deprived of the waning moonlight,
The clock struck, the bell chimed,
You heard a most otherworldly cry.

Awakened, you rose up from the bed,
Surrounded by curtains rendered to a darkened red.
Holding a candle, and the key from the pocket,
Without a sound into the hall you went.

Under the guide of the flickering flame,
You walked the staircase, the saloons and the hall ways,
And the drawing room vacant of cheerful chats.
You scrambled, you quickened,
Running away from movements in the shadows,
The sensation of being followed.
The place kept a secret.
It lingered, it whispered,
Of a savage form with thick black hair,
And a red dress bright as fire.

But he assured you it was nothing more than a dream,
A feverish, delirious dream.
Wouldn’t it feel nice to hold his hands,
To be consoled by those very eyes, and say,
‘I will love you and live with you through life till death’?
It was just a dream, my timid little thing,
A creation of your pure imagination,
(Yes, that was the explanation,
As things were known to happen.)
You have exposed for too long under the moonlight.

It was not real, the dream was not real,
Neither were the seas and the mountains,
The country called England,
The fire of the white men’s Hell and their salvation.
The church bell rang and you said, ‘I do.’
You woke up and shouted when you jumped off the roof.

The clock struct two,
In the dark corridor like a stone you stood.
You passed the looking glass,
And saw the creature who haunted this place.

This was the story of another side.
There was always the other side.
(‘You are not feeling well,’ he said.
‘Madness runs deep in their family blood,’ they said.)
You came to become nothing to him,
A doll, a marionette,
A mad thing without feelings,
A disgrace to be kept secret,
There was only one way to escape this cage.

The clock struct at the dead of the night,
The hour of fatality to bring on the grand finale.
Holding a candle, and the key from her pocket,
Out of the attic without a sound you went.

public struct Love {
    private enum Person {
        case female
        case male
        case other(_ type:String)
    }

    public let people:[Person]
    private var loveAmount:Int

    public init(people:[Person]) {
        self.people = people
        loveAmount = 0
    }

    public mutating func moreLoveForEachOther(addedLove:Int) {
        loveAmount += addedLove
    }
}

if you see the worst
in someone
and everyone
you meet,
for so long,
it ruins your model
  in which you struct
     your self.
~
   ~
           no wonder,
you are what you read.

pessimistic blood bleeds
purple urch. ylck.

an optimistic heart
leaves blood with
    slivers of silver.
and it, like happiness
that floats of the
River Sanguine.

Hope you get back there.
Something in me
knows you will.

Where everyone's
voices around you
are better than they
are, they say the right
things in between the
blanks where their loving true soul shines through. a heavenly mastery in a godly forgiveness of what
that we are still left, no matter of the matter, somewhat, ignorant.
it's a blessing, as much of a curse.
I couldn't quite put my finger on it,
yet truth and belief are my key to this whole.