Thursday, October 4, 2012



How was this dream spell?
And I know that actually have nothing,
Otherwise fantasy in rude commitment
And the mantle that truly evil lust.
The step done in loose soil
The rustic moment disdain
Closing surely the meek brow,
At a time bolder and sliding.
Prefacing death that would
As much as I can in agony
My term determines the endgame.
How could I forget another fact?
And I know that sometimes portrait of loneliness
Without even knowing supernal pray.


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