Long, lost friendson empyreal winds,my goat is a dogand my word is a bird-and there but for the grace ofnameless circumstancego I~coterminous withthe devil you knowon a Friday night...the weak end bluesin summerwood huessweating for the Beastin the swelterof...
Hero's journey stone-grey still-in crying pondscum reliefwe are the worldall along the western fronta well to the deep of a statue's sight....a moral compass time warp zone,the skywith zero reactionfirmament grey...that gold displayof...
Powerfully penned, Ben. “a nightshade nihilist” love that line my friend. Incredible spill. Appreciate you.
Damian