i'm afraid of people stealing my words the way december morning air steals your breath away as you wait at bus stops...
stories
The Matriarch get thee away misconceptions blaze vision night sunday |
thoughts
shhh. . . love me |
poems
disillusion burnt alive your eyes flight sigh |
misc. childish letter remembering more than this |
All books are either dreams or swords; You can cut, or you can drug with words. ~Amy Lowell~