konichiwa drew!

this sort of absolution has got that skull and crossing of bones plus priests etched onto its person. a younger flame abounds to the spy of the fly, and swallows noir supplements to make the romantic falling rain scene abate as the sidewalks dry. eight years younger to the day, holding the roses' bouquet, and i'd have been apt in settling the sling to fit the open space of my neck. eight years older and you'd be the ample siren to guide my galleon face first into the wreck. not so the cynic as t… Continue

this sort of absolution has got that skull and crossing of bones plus priests etched onto its person. a younger flame abounds to the spy of the fly, and swallows noir supplements to make the romantic falling rain scene abate as the sidewalks dry. eight years younger to the day, holding the roses' bouquet, and i'd have been apt in settling the sling to fit the open space of my neck. eight years older and you'd be the ample siren to guide my galleon face first into the wreck. not so the cynic as t… Continue

my bend hangs sinister as a coated shield of arms, against bane, bile, blemish, women and all their worldly charms. a psalm to post modern sainthood, an argot within a solo spirit's own mesh. the question within the choir, the caitiff hidden under her dress. and if i've slain every psuedo foreign devil, makeshift saviour, and namebrand rebel, i'd gladly strap father time to the bed's confines and force him to watch as i ravage mother nature to the point she begs me to mark her mine. cross her ch… Continue

macabre minds would say the praise should have went to the passing motorist. ms. haze pettered out in a blaze post setting eyes on the page, where written were confessions of appetites aimed at the apple of her iris. you came in the middle of this. perfect timing to catch the iron clad fascade father figure run about frantic in search of his missing pair of leg earings. the swan song sung it something awful as the crashing of parts gave way to sickness greater than any platoon of plagued rats co… Continue

meanwhile he's cradling fetal position questions of whether this tryst leyline is leading to something or other. as the question posed, a queerer query of whether his open hand is just one amongst the many. rose soft pedals for palms, and the wonder if shes the fabled angel worth the wing span (if there ever were any).if his verbal caresses equate to a small of the back shivering sort of orotund, or if all the "forever endeavors" in letters are just invitations to the dance in the vampire bund.… Continue