it's time.


I feel nothing for beauty in these unsealed times

There is no rose prettier or scented that could mask such irksome truth in whatever quiet spaces afforded. What joy is there when only pity falls like hail from the skies. 

The dimention is lost. There is no sound in the frequency of prayers only crackles and hissing found in different eyes.  Cast no evil upon live throw no good deed into yhe oblivion of thought. Be real. Pray. Love. Live.give.get. the shsdows will find us all. I cross my heart.

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