Thursday, November 8, 2012


Revel in your majestic ties, the knots that binds us tight into the fabric of time, spilling blood like love pouring out of a sieve. Nothing feels so right, like the abundance of flight giving birth to second sight. Wetting our hands in, whats seems to be life, an illusion of the blessed night. The story-less vagrant upon his horse, and enchantment might be something of importance to a mindless, horrid, vicarious life.

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