"[...] a botched civilization, [...] For a few thousand battered books." ---Ezra Pound, Hugh Selwyn Mauberly
I fear the father-spider most, More than the mothercrystals. I plan to rave psychotic with survival skills. The force is strong with Brian. Here are our voices displayed. This is deep poesy, tread softly. Don't worry the grammar, dearies; I'm too well advised of civil norms. We are on our way as ever again.
I am souring sweetly As a maze of winds. It is right in front of me But with nowhere to look in. A whisperless agony enfolds my chest Until it cracks me out along the spine To this and nothing more.
What Little I Remember
Always homing in on first love. Triangle swarm of the lazer castle. Burning hands scare jawa. Person speaking 12 languages at once is home. Killer a-THC. Beef stroganoff with rice noodle. Seeing Mala w/ baby Paris. Real guns have shoulder butts. The infanta releases the #661645. Telling the Queen Elizabeth ascension story. She is never right around the corner. Heroin contains heavy metals. Playing Aladdin on rooftops.