

As a cause of great absence.At times I imagine you know me and am plagued by it, suffering for flooding in artifice or thorns afore culling portent and blackened poisonousAs a cause of great absence.
diamonds
drunk gluttonous between camphor and shadows the moon pretends you don't notice your not being here
from soot drew molasses as though streams alone had sweat free half the hillside.


too much threadI am the sum of my parts. And with what you leave behind, I am at a loss and travel back and forth between doorstep and tomorrows empty clock in prayers of ghosts or lines between dusttoo much thread
unraveled furious for counting the dreams you forget begging between cracked floorboard or a reckoning in twine save ropes hope filled knots
the slack of sudden gripping.


Burying stars.With what remains or argues from shelter hopes loose neck burrowing blind by lantern.Burying stars.


Away fromAt some point you'll break free, leap arms bound toward broken glass and streaking sunlight.Away from
At some point you'll tell yourself how anything mattered;
before now anything Could have.
believes in angels, [S]he
believes in stories.
I'd heard God loves love, and hates us through it.

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We are asleep with compasses in our hands...
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nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae fuit
PFUG Vip: [link]
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We are asleep with compasses in our hands...
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My website: [link]
"My muse is my Goddess, and her mystery is my God."
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