Her Smile, I'm Sure, Burnt Rome To

I'm Not Independently Wealthy.

I Still Get Nightmares. In Fact, I Get Them So Often I Should Be Used To Them By Now. I'm Not. No One Ever Really Gets Used To Nightmares.

Even The Brightest Magnesium Flare Can Do Little Against Such Dark Except Blind The Eyes Of The One Holding It. Thus One Craves What By Seeing One Has In Fact Not Seen.

Little Solace Comes To Those Who Grieve When Thoughts Keep Drifting As Walls Keep Shifting And This Great Blue World Of Ours Seems A House Of Leaves Moments Before The Wind.

My Hands Resemble Some Ancient Tree: The Roots That Bind Up The Earth, The Rock And The Ceaselessly Nibbling Wordms.