| the_muse | ||
| Mahayana | deserts me | 021006 |
| ... | ||
| knot meat | stopped amusing | 021006 |
| ... | ||
| trixie |
a passion held closer than no other was gotten or sold. the force of freedom and sight, can it trap itself in the soul of an innocent? a rambling of images and colors that to only one organize into a mosaic and are mathimatically correct. For the answer is always two, or rather, you. But, you plus me, or "the muse," eventually as one compose the botton line. For it never ends, and the flames glow white-hot while breathing out an elixer to save the one known as artist. Soothing ceremonies such as this, born as fleeting nausea and bred as ritualistic monotony to settle, cool, and freeze as granted security. For it is a funnel life for that of muse, she grows to free yet settles for love. |
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