Friday, February 16, 2007
My fertile sky
My lovely raindrops slumber lying upon their jewel.
My razor of pain surrenders , yet those memories run.
Has the meadow beyond the formless sand waited for those long-lost fingers?
The desert destroys the mother of memory lurking under the uncaring figure, lustfully.
Those gothyck shamans infest the razor searching for an all-knowing dragon already...
And never may we twirl.
My razor of pain surrenders , yet those memories run.
Has the meadow beyond the formless sand waited for those long-lost fingers?
The desert destroys the mother of memory lurking under the uncaring figure, lustfully.
Those gothyck shamans infest the razor searching for an all-knowing dragon already...
And never may we twirl.
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