palaeochannel6

I slept so long... centuries, eons; myriads of stars looked down on me, and another myriads looked up. Cradled in the bedding made of suns... and fire. My dreams were filled with debris of scorched buildings, burning forests, world set in blue and white flames. My blood boiled in my veins, yet my sleep was eternal, just like gods who bound me. There were no shackles, no bars to hold me. I was dead for the world of humans, as long as I slept. And faith was dwindling, pouring cold water on my inner inferno, day by day, year by year... But there are always fools. Fools who think they can gain more power, more strength... who want to light their own flame... and perish within it. I waited for a fool, who would set me free, quench the thirst of my dreams, unleash blazing storm above the sky, to burn down the darkness. I am a god, I could wait long. The faith placed in glory, in that one man, could set up even the poorest kindling. He wanted to use me as a pawn to domination. Yet he

I buried the storm deep under fallen leaves silenced the rageful wind dirt-engraved the thunder where a storm was only I remained the vine dryad with grass-stitched mouth calm as a pool among the noiseless woods

Walking into honest holes laced up morning harbinger zip closed your body a work uniform exhume a thing which. Dabbled in dark beauty what future living this is it wringing the water out the cloth wringing the love out the body I am trying not to wander yesterdays garden dodging calls from my insurance provider as the city rages on & on I am always losing me in pieces the small change of my soul abandoned to various couches across europe Yes in fact I am missing something But still this is where I'm leaving you the feeling of guilt is a natural result of desire. I want to run over the hills and into the moon let the day the body, the schism I spun the poem round the. Page made soup. dreamsof transjoy its september I do dream of going I

once more before the end times let us sit in a warm green field slip the creek— run our restless down and do a perfect job of everything. i will cradle your face with my hands under your sky and wander careless up to your summit— spilling out from our bindings onto the same page you and i know each others edges scheherazade— you were looking right at me once more before the end times let us get drunk early in soft stages whisper how it will be when the cows come home, shamelessly alive i love you in the dawn which is mine and in the night, which belongs to you as with most things it is just like you said simply, how you are is too good and rare to lose.