2:46 p.m. 2005-01-12
A letter to you in response to this invitation. Would that these phrases could soothe the storm. The provocateur stationed beneath is awakening resolutely commencing the destruction of these hallowed relics. The declaration of a metaphor does nothing to relieve the confusion... does it? Signify the answer in the response projected across space with these machines, a question posed through code. Is this the only truth? A static sensation rippling across this sceen. Do you understand the meaning? Dredge this icon from the depths of this heart, dry your eyes and revisit the promises and the possibilities. Tucked deep under the buried this conviction held dear, silence and unfelt limbs stretching at the call. This plague (a metaphor my dear) is coming and threatening to bear us away in merciless furor. Embalm the remains of a soldier still bled as the dirge rings off the walls as the black-clad greive. Spastic return to the revisited blur of the youthful obsession. Spell out the key to this lock hidden among the whispered eyes and the promised glance. A sonata played before the deaf to preview the monstrocity of our bemused ignorance, you will never know.
I feel the urge to promise an explanation
back & forth