covox dalek
I have separated my cells, the blood has pumped, and synapses are slowed to a more reasonable pace. My skin is pulled across my body and sealed to these sinews for animation. I with the curling hair, I with the window sill, I with the key tied to a ring. You were and will always be one of stained glass' midday captures- it is absurd to think there was so much more to it. So real it's surreal can you believe this? You will always seem me as your son or sun or shun, but my motor mouth was the only think keeping you from draining. Silver and gold were a fair bronze, but my love, you are in the dark patch of mind that I may never escape. My love, you are some trademark balancing act desired but not saught, seen but not known. I miss you and now it's not quite misused, but the issues seem re-mane. A curled lip or sand bag, a baby bird in God's wind.