Monday, November 5, 2012

In the tangled remains of wind and torrid waters, the earth trembling and you on top of me, my fortune under your warmth while they suck on cold fingers. Why is it that I feel guilt in my pleasure riding free on two wheels as they below me inch away in grinding metal? And if I was the one warming my hands next to faith, my house a deck of fallen cards? Would I be rejoicing at the rays of light streaming from behind the clouds? Oh I hope so, may I remember all the gifts that have been given.

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