• delling 128w

    When the treetops swirl around the sun and meet as one in worship, and are blasted to scatter out to heaven in rebellion! Beauty is the curse. Damned. So much fire dancing. So many tears. The tufts of vales, the folds; the crosses born from when the Dragon of Four Heads necks lie limp over the horizon till the hand of fate slaps the bare skin of the supine belly, and the skull sparks of gnashing teeth are rising!

    The symphonic sways in a lull, always titillating, never dull! The coarse sand grains come together in spans, a sweeping velvet bed. Inifentesimal rocks, pours, where the blood meets soft bedding in angelic torch songs; the flushing of blue rivers offered as sacrament to the three feathers and their broken circle-kiss dialed toward an expanding upper liminal right of wandering mind!

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    the Lady and the Fivefold Sign