We fly through the space...
the eyes data mining
through all forgotten memory
...storing them in citations
syntheholic eggs of Eostre
...choose a measure
unshaken by church-stones
beyond a building
a nide of dried hide,
beyond an attitude
vitriolic in my tone
I feel soul-fed caligraphy
of ATOM, the father on the hill
On a day I feel many voices.
Need I speak enough?
Trifling words.
[20:15|29.4.011] ©c.thomas.carter
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