The story I write The tale I tell, poetic Mythic, magnetic, Universal, it Is your story as much as It is my story.
Do not permit his Hoary head to lay on his Deathbed unbloodied (1 Kings 2)
One bright summer morning the assholes took flight, Soaring on smugness, crowned with delight, Yet as their wings filled the sky, a chill filled the
Work I alone, light dimmed, enthralled, I seek,The spot, the mass, the growth, the bleed, the leak,In order that your fortune may be told.My words,
Ungroomed groom Unbridled bride, children Ravening wolves
Creeping crawling lurking leering rainy nightPeering peeping sneaker sneaking window lightClimbing clinging stretching reaching here am IDripping drooling fast approaching fingers fang
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