Nomadic and rich in the ways of understanding that certain beauty in language, this wanderer is still sometimes limited with vision. A sacred necklace arms the mind with a weapon called bliss, which functions in order for me to exists. The dwelling impulse to break down that tradition of dealing with a marauding past reappears in comfortable form. However, allowing there to be a shortage in clear thinking could bring about an unsettling storm. Brutalized by the memory of her voice, a desired shadow now draws blood from my heart. Distractions, distractions, only there when the mind is occupied by a treacherous thought.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment