Evangel, yours the book has a saddle smell quality mine yet is to be given, maybe I’ll buy it first, crossing bridges or going through walls helps? Someones spirit lit change; in your name after death. Boreal, to elements whisks the paw of tenderness your nails in my back leave a strange poison – Loner! pastures for your lips now , how come? Our choices are blind visuals that give a worthful life. Peruse we are in detail and as close as an aging breath can divide the bedroom or all space that is the next door for a good reason urges plunder into invisible distances? Their voices unheard today let me cut open your nightdress. Thank you - my flower, oh! Sooo prepared...
Thourn Whaul -- June 2008
