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amillio
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everysoft continues labored breath , pulls..me just a little furthur out into the sea. ITs the way the world rolls into self flows back out towards the horizon.
The sun set hours ago, still the world collpases and folds itself back out into sea. never ceasing. Never stray from the ancient traditions. The swells carry me and my men to the top of this manor. Upon reaching the precipace climax reached..we wrythe in our own pestilance and exault those whom exhume the pain..the most torment from the vaults locked iside by paddlocks and chains..and trapped by poisen// it keeps it locked away these thing s kkep it hiddin.
It's fear that keep them away from the vault.
a man's feat fall heavyily as he studders his was to the wash. the san. HE is sore muscles, flushed with acid and screaming for reast. He is numb to there cries not the pain. He carries a large black defful. the o bag oppens on one end its sown shut.
"can i help you with your bags sir."
the overencumbured man, merely wheases as his mind drags the rest of his carriage. His soul pulling the rest
The tweek is slatherd in the . finest of homless atire. HE cragged him bleeding fase down crawling with the of the raod stirrin up death into is glistening dry lungs.
Portly UN KEPT worn down, dishelveled and lonily. His face was heavenly scarred and burnt and black from all the smog and ash that caked in layers an encrusted visage over a much harder face beneath.ash, ash that collected from the bodies he's had to watch burn. Souls and ideas lovers scourned by his flame.
His face ash, save for the rivers of sweat that pooled on his forehead and dripped down creating tributaries that carried this current of persperation and the tears the fell into the divide that waterway on the right check. little ash sediment washed away into his tattered clothing
THis man pulled this weight . chains and metal and caskets broken lightbulbs and lost books this trash he dragged with him he binded it up and fastned to a harness that he pulled over his and around his shoulders..his yolk.. He yolks hi weight and pulls westwaerd...alwayws westard..always..over cliffs and moutains and desert and seering heat.a\pulls this . you see , he has no weight of his own, he's hollow.
it's the weight that keeps him on the earth. That keep s his pain.
drgs the weight ..shskled weight..broken glass letters from love's old song sing doloroso maladies about blissfull time when clocks with broken hands that spin backwards then stop when i can tell her i love her old dirty strings cd cases that never had lyrics coffe grounds panama proof pants. and knife.
Trudge trudge trudge
slow and sour when the blows
down an old crows nose
truge trudge trudge trudge trudge
over hills into muck from
muck to swampier waters
across this blackened fevered path
where the panicked pass the daughters
to find love through pain
to trade souls for sex.
to impose litle a slickith scum about the brain
and trudge trudge trudge..
the coast .its water. their splendor
The oceans will forgrt he pulls that weight opun his chest . he cut his weight s . ckimax The starts no.[
the plasse is closed , whatya mena... Butch bich: thats waht i mea0--Slaappped!!!he slides of weights the slide toward the cliff
Should let the weight die tin the ocean
they teeter the shake the wake from below are meddling with your mothers
t
Thast was is....
...what..was wht?
the weights man they fell...
....did les do it
yea, pushed them watched um fall
....hows he taking it
he never unchained him self from it all
les is dead.
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060204
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