|
Doar
|
that my voice believes in the sanctity of each voice, believes that you have numbered your soul. You've counted eaqchtime you have been left in your own sorrow. I type, and I swing the hammer, but nothing seems to be a numbered pursuit.
What can I say to you, the lost few that may read this, what causes my head to burn and the groaning foot steps that begin every thought. I see my passage, and communication, listen to what you, and I MEAN YOU, listen, just listen. Let you decide your past, present and future.
A step outside.
.
`
|
070130
|
