How thenam I to mention theprocess of molting withoutelaborating my own desecrationwithout describing the evaporationof my divine inner plumageinside this stillwaterstorm of sunshinethe truth of light banishesmy bright gleaming feathersbeneath the blaze of her warm summer raysmy decimated colors...

A fire will  die without a flame left neglected, who's to blame? A blackened pile of lust ignoredhas left two lovers tired and bored.But in the ashes lies an ember pleading for them to remember.The fire just needs some fuel to starta...