Wednesday, May 26, 2010

MYRIAD ARMCHAIR YEARNING




Distance ain't the caper, its the lack of distance between your hands and the neck you breathing down,
The ease with which accomplishment is gained in mind, oh and forever yearned for!




Oh and woe, to be so intent when sweet distance obscures, and once placed in the position to only wilt.
Oh the too, the price to pay to lay upon that desolate step tracing in mind the steps over rainbow, breathing technicolor vapor in forlorn distance. So deliberate is the hand of the robed, pierce the unknown in my heart,
Oh and what of unknown? its all known, sand and mud and rivers of sorrow and laughter.

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