apparently, I am not real
inherently, nothing I feel

pack-rats and hoarders couldn't pile the pain my heart can withstand
for you I do not shed; tear nor skin
you are holy in that within you lie less now than whence we met.

our meeting contents me now, nonetheless.

simplicity, perfect.
spirits lifted, beef droppin.
lack of purpose, sense of direction, throwing curves your way.
can you tell me which way I go to get to where I should be?

nay.

Savoring your meal's taste, or the fulfillment of an empty stomach?

tonight, I sleep with a frown

lately I have been walking in circles, following my left hand.

:u]

in many a mind, love is conceived as a fire that burns, dies, can be rekindled.
love is an accumulative drive, that which flesh and blood and facial lines cannot map.
the metaphysics of love are deep and thick like mesquite tree trunks.
hours of chopping.
years of gathering.
love is not the fire, but the wood that keeps it burning

I have figured you both out, puzzles have never been so challenging, yet so boring

Click to view

~~~~~~SKEEEEEEEEE~~~~~

http://hotfile.com/dl/10265817/3d4a8ac/Experimental_Show_-_2009-08-12_-_Jahbitat_Debruit__Frosty--www.qrip.org.mp3.html

 slowed with ease, pressure persists, ease ceased, fighting diseases spreading wilder then brush fire on the driest summer day, I am the cure, you are the run-on, and I cannot follow.

I cannot even find the key hole, alas, it is too large, I have the wrong key in hand, and I still ponder the right key in mind.

ritualistic is the breath enveloping my ( Read more... )