In a harvesting state that brings with the bounty an explanation to the talkers, it is the formation of how speech blanks the wipe to the tack of satchel. From the backpacking of shouldering around the terrific, it is in the sound, it is in more ink to sentence the structure to understanding the impact of micro-seconds. As the persons of chambered life have sold to the foot a dance to the rooms in sending by balloon, I pleasure nothing in expression to making clear the formal invite. In the instant of a moment breath, this blog has provided my voice with a template for the base construction of the future taste. Spice in pepper of course asked the salt of the Ocean at Seas to craft the shipping to bring lather to a lease. Rent for the foster freeze had a horror on the daily introductions fork, the yield produced this Site.
Chosen construction to the demolition of crumbled lives is of a vernacular that Ancients must know. For the temple of my brain is in a proper foundation to deliver letter and post as the nail in the branch of hammering. To have been ignored by society in total is more to identification of that slink away that Elisa did on that extremely damaging day in her parents home. As Elisa swaggered and scattered that slink to those bearings with the flip in a single tell. I was in the immediate of complete, and disaster did not blink.
Try on the clothes of cloaks that match the closet fell shoes, waltz time with me back to childhood news, the squeak of the silence to that bedroom I shared with my older sister. Tamara, my older sister, faking her sleep in the night, would roll to her side when my brother entered the room for those darkly night rides. As I turned to no avail my older sister Tamara laid awake, she would listen to the movement of the cork that was inside. I would look to search help but the hand on my mouth held my lips from speak, the grunts made not by me but the pounding of the headboard memory shakes the window of sight. I could feel the swamp of mud and the smell of slick smashing to my bell.
In the brash harshness of reality, there are people whom have done terror to my life, like a re-run on the television or the basement garage of no escape. Since times of my youth and that exit blocked I have always taken great care to that specific detail, for the closets have nightmares of the sticks to gum.
As I have groaned to each setting, the table is the frustration, for the knife is not dull, the spoon is not ladle and the plate is troubled by the courses served to skill. Shall not the door be of crept and the soft language of lowered eyes to sandal, the affair in arrangement bring demise, the knowledge of the edge that a couch is a bed, makes the telephone the walking dead. A zombie in the eats of flesh of not minding that you have now been downed to the suffering, the contagion of crisis through born virus that infects your mind to the drilling of not being at a point, but being served as the plunder.
My life is the fact that once delegated as a scapegoat there is no end to the procession of those that wish to use you in body, mind and spirit as the dumping ground. In random questions that produce idiocy as there measure for stating 'are you okay' and then state that they are worried over your safety, I say with simplicity that none of this has ever been okay. The reason for the pipes that toot such ignorance I believe that it is done by people whom wish to save themselves from the reality of accounting for their shameful acts and actions against mankind and/or the fellow individual standing as an independent. When a person sheds pale color to the blanket white ill of vomit stare, the are you okay can be useful should it be genuine, but today it comes with no hand, just the random pop-up of email or drop-off of guilt. Within the status that held to secrets to the full-blown testimony of watching your friend, neighbor, or passing stranger be raped by a familiar individual is the death of more than the the mental ration of a civilization. It is the bleed that drains into and onto the streets, avenues and boulevards that have drowned so many human beings in silent agony.
The treasure of communication is brought with listen not talk, each word of enunciation to the chosen expression of a said individual is what is called a Tell. In the depth of hell the fires are burning, desire is felled by the swampy sumps that are oil-based grease to goo the ignition to full bore death drinks. Theses rifled published posts to the described as plight in a fight for life not a circulation that promotes jest. Dust to Dawn, the bird to the fawn, my home is surrounded by Nature that is not passing hope as some spit word, but, knowing that 'Flight from Death' was more revealing that one would have believed.