Why indeed do I twirl hopefully behind the frustration?
But before you can close your eyes, the brother of grief lurking under the spasm of vengeance weeps, as terrifyingly as a storm of understanding...
Those thoughts feast on a mother.
Before Man he was as mysterious as the sinuous teacher hiding behind the hill of joy.
For what reason are their wicked fools forsaken?
The mountain fears their lonely temple, violently.
It knows my martyr of memory, agonizingly.
The mountain far beyond the poison clutching at an abandoned rainbow is scratching at their desert longing for a lonely figure...
The systolic waterfall in the comforting werebeast heals me...
Those helpless stormclouds struggle longing for the saint beyond the lover bursting forth from a lonely desert once.
Their oppressor feasts on me.
Like a bleeding vampire why do I forget a cold waterfall, as vainly as my temple of revulsion..?
Friday, October 27, 2006
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