Do not feed the animals! And yet the circus paraded in the forest of my mind as the eels of this campaign molested all the creatures that bend with vowels of intricate light. Lethargy disperses to perpetuate the mortification of each step: And the horror changes the priceless administration of a look upon futures that have yet to come. Stomp madly in the heavy rain. All elbows in the closet of assorted brooms and not a dust pan between them; and so I lift, sifting through a canopy of cold winter leaves. The sky arches her back that I might clasp her hair and pull. Do you not see the scorpion fall from the linen of white? This was the pinprick of blood. To those creatures of the moaning tear, the balcony of a territory, and the syllabus of the succubae inducted by deviations of a calm androgynous storm, I salute you!
lunacat:
Honestly and sincerelky, there are times when I don't fully comprehend what it is you are saying in a literal sense. I suppose that may have something to do with your not writing in literal terms. But I do get a literary sense of what you communicate and my conclusion is that you search for an enigmatic truth that surpasses the experience of most. I encourage you in this journey and I thank you for your thoughtful repsonses to my journal entries. I enjoy your sometimes esoteric prose.