The Letter X

silver beaded threads of sweat swimming through ecstacy.
plurarilty. duality. a vaccumm of air. no sound;
no speach.

immobilized paradise.

A Mixture Of Colors

If I could write any thing at all, it would be to tell you that it mattered. that every instant, every waking itching movement felt real. that in a deep inhale of smoky, purified mist, it mattered.

but wait. steady path. steer clear.

action.

The internet makes me feel so permanent. That idea and thought in and of itself is scary.