" flower in winter
soon to wither
a life in stone
to see it in bloom
whither do we bemoan?
sleep well april showers,
if ever in winter december
the snow's beauty veiled by cold.
do not mind the unmoving white
tip it over, let it fall once more "
{-+-}
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Solitude is an addiction; Social contact is a fucking disease.
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