| I have no artistic talent besides writing. I have no camera, and can hold a brush as steady as a man with arthritis jacking off on an avalanche, so don't expect much 'visual art' from this guy. |


The Pricker BushShe rides the back of a great cement serpent,The Pricker Bush
As the wavering sun sets on the lush and green desert.
Though she knows that she is alone, Somewhere she hears a low moan.
She steps from the light of the winding gray snake, And is quickly swallowed by the dead, fertile trees,
And the moaning gets closer still, As she slowly starts losing her will.
Her damning curiosity has almost died, But she decides to push on just a little while more,
As the serpent still held tight, Lit by a hundred lamps light.  


A Storybook Ending - Part 8The werewolf howls so beautifully, As you approach so dutifully, But you dont dare look into his eyes.A Storybook Ending - Part 8
You wish to be but a passerby, But you feel that you may crash or die, Sometimes you just cant take the chance.
You now begin that desperate dance, Only you see how he barks and pants, As you groove to the beat of a knell.
I know you bought what sells.
I, too, hear the bells, How they sing, ring, and swell, I just cannot tell, How to save one from hell, Somehow you fell, Into a dead and dry dell.
I tr


A Storybook Ending - 7th SongI put on my glasses, and saw, Death in every detail, I mingled with the masses, and drew, Up that opaque veil.A Storybook Ending - 7th Song
The wrinkles seemed like scars, like in a, War wound galleria, The people all had SARS, herpes, And AIDS and gonorrhea.
So I fill my glasses, and bask, In that calming blur, I stumble through the masses, my voice an, Incoherent slur.
I miss my clarity, and all the, Sharpness is now gone, I wish that I could see, but I can't, Put these glasses on.
Why can I not just put, These damn glasses on?
| I have no artistic talent besides writing. I have no camera, and can hold a brush as steady as a man with arthritis jacking off on an avalanche, so don't expect much 'visual art' from this guy. |
Iii miss you. We haven't talked in FOREVER, and I just got back from camp, I'm caught up on everything, and we should talk. Yeah. So get on AIM sometime when you have ze time! Ciao!
--
"There are angels in your angles, there's a low moon caught in your tangles..." -The Decemberists
I'm camping right now (only home for about an hour now) so I won't be able to talk until to the 8th.
--
"Hobbes, what happens to us when we die?"
"I think we play saxophone for an all girl cabaret in New Orleans."
"So you believe in heaven?"
"Call it what you like."
--
"There are angels in your angles, there's a low moon caught in your tangles..." -The Decemberists
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.....(.(....(....(...\..../´¯/
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--
"There are angels in your angles, there's a low moon caught in your tangles..." -The Decemberists
--
"There are angels in your angles, there's a low moon caught in your tangles..." -The Decemberists
--
"Hobbes, what happens to us when we die?"
"I think we play saxophone for an all girl cabaret in New Orleans."
"So you believe in heaven?"
"Call it what you like."
--
"There are angels in your angles, there's a low moon caught in your tangles..." -The Decemberists
--
"A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die."
My Website
.
--
"Hobbes, what happens to us when we die?"
"I think we play saxophone for an all girl cabaret in New Orleans."
"So you believe in heaven?"
"Call it what you like."
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