The bitter

stain.

You sit painting at me like a willow tree could

up and

walk.

this was is over

rode fails

dare-ing and

I still

stark

face dull

full

you sit
gazing

murmers the cross

piled strewn and

washed

gustly

that gates

the details are

waiting.

fully stasis

My need...

fine

pass to

Drew.

the fair wallow

of two young stick

gnawing dogs we waste trees

be pound.

taste the laughter of the pups

that gnaw the strewn world apart
in tatters

thou sit out vases

the cast is net

La Fayette is stronger

This roar sleeps

the underworld is yet smooth

he sits

out the Styx and pose

his eyes lose the sight that made them once redeems

looking to the side.

wait for the taste.

the dark is fog

is missing

legs

stare checkered

humble street on a lonely wet.