Hear I am. Eat your heart out. I hear it's tasty.


little lake anthologymichael beauclerc morrowlittle lake anthology
thick, ink-spattered fingers shake on pale hands, and blue veins snake up strangled wrists and wring his arms filled with poison
his raw, ruddy face screams in disguise to show his scarecrow thin and blackbird eyes
he will gasp into the earth finally injected like a flavoured roast with syringe into his blue veins and vacant curls embalmed lips cease to tremble leaving charlotte to weep.
john timmins
Nobody was left to tell his stories For the widow next door Grew old with scurvy, and she
--
Love can be the ultamite key
and the power inside of you so
you can never be afriad of yourself
be who you are
--
...all of which makes me anxious... at times unbearably so...
--
Love can be the ultamite key
and the power inside of you so
you can never be afriad of yourself
be who you are
Loads of love,
LeoRa
--
...all of which makes me anxious... at times unbearably so...
--
Everyday is exactly the same
never wears shoes. I beleive it is said he is barefoot and leaves the footprints of mud. But to say he is coming is folly as he is everpresent as God is. and why not? Does he not see everything as God does?
Toe
--
...all of which makes me anxious... at times unbearably so...
--
"The Day is Long, and Life isn't..."
--
...all of which makes me anxious... at times unbearably so...
Previous Page12345...Next Page