

epsilonian farcePerched within the fingertips, balanced perfectly, weightles, of the yellow, blew smoke of the chamber dancing in the absence of vacuum, to be is to clean, is as it, as i see, am, was, were Bo in hand he meanders off, on a mission to be aimless, infinite location, found only where he is, as he is. where he was, still he walks, waiting for them.epsilonian farce
Waited for themself. Among the absence of growth, the absith of growth, benign as per existence. as his taste entails for him. without a home, but not homeless, just one to be found. The mould of his creation.
Seen, but never noticed, saw not see, only reminded after forgettin
--
IAM GOD FEAR ME... I think
We are the light
We are those that dwell in the night
We are the Masters...
--
Lovejection Syndrome
--
...that one made me think of you, though if it were your execution... there'd be much more detailed ramblings, accusations and rants...
--
"...my fridge is the fulcrum of your reality... "
Previous PageNext Page