God told me to skin you alive[edit]

[Sepia]

Weary, wonky, wanking were vixens


"5 And the Lord said, "Indeed the people are one and they all have one language, and this is what they begin to do; now nothing that they propose to do will be withheld from them"."


"."

When the long hard journey is over and we become one people, fully truly like actually and not like anyone with an agenda but when childhood ends and we transcend/ascend/descend nothing will be withheld from us. Bearing that in mind we begin to explore what lies beyond, who knows what is left of mother earth at this point but thats not important now, important is we go out into it, beyond, we work together to become something more, doing something very human and we go out to explore

"...a terrible beauty is born."

Becoming the terror, we have learned so little, a child's hand tinkering at the piano, skilled and knowing, somewhere deep inside the hairy trombone something resonates, changes and the moment of grace is broken and the child resumes, she begins her journey on a broad broad road.

"...Every stool was looser than the one before, and smelled fouler. By the time the moon came up she was shitting brown water. The more she drank the more she shat but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew".

A house of cards will fall or did i mean a house of cars i cant seem to recall anymore, theres and impertinent impediment in my speech prepared to give a speach to find those few out of reach and id talk about her fanny but its more of a peach ripe for digging in your teeth and god god grant me sleep

To keep the dream from fragmenting without us knowing what it is anymore. A shudder, a click and a halt, something loosening, a heart stopping, a soul churning. It was supposed to mean something, it was supposed to become something but it wouldn't grow on its own, the tree wanted to die but we had to keep it alive so we ourselves could live into something new, pupae is all we hope we are, underneath all the dross that forms and foams on top of our lives, we hope that we are inherently good, it's not we do, it's not who we are but what we will become that makes us able to move through the dredge of our lives and the smile on our faces is a cold one, like a waiter asking you in a broken language if you want another refill

[Cramulus]

I missed you, Sepia.

You have a way of coalescing these ephemeral moments and emotions.. dreamlike. Then the last sentence sharpens the focus, like emerging from a daydream.