(Untitled)

[authenticlife]

Betrayed first by my waist. Subtle lines in each hand belie untruth. Time is a myth. I am unbecoming. Fruit of our loins spill round about me in relentless laughter, play, mischief. Their smiles! What source? I get beneath the carpet of conversation and unravel each thread. Without a new view. Art craves perpetuity from escape. Chained joy,

Comments

[halucin0jenx]

That sounds all too familiar my friend.... Sounds like we both need some adult time... How have you been? Still around c-ville? teaching?