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touch of painted curls
stream of days 
19th-Nov-2003 04:45 pm
hail at 50 degrees
confusion rain on me
I remember warm nights
waterfall take me
some hearts beat pomegranate juice
sticky hot sweat
skin of the earth, let's hide in you tonight,
you cover me like a great spider,
and I love to fight
when you pierce me slowly
I am stronger than this,
but it's you and a six-pointed star
I'll just squirm and read the words,
A soft embrace would drown them,
Let's burn our wings before we rest.
Fill our altars, celebrate the night
We are spirits, taste this.
Sweet fantasy,
you are welcome at my door.
Touch me like ivy, pull me,
your vines and fingers,
soft leather binds,
your dreams fill the air
obscene and choking desire,
nothing to say
that cannot be said with touch

Bloody hell... I lost this one to two reboots, so this a brain dump. ;)

Spent the weekend helping Isadora clean out her house. It's a circa 1880 victorian, big house, four and three bedrooms, up and down. It's in need of various updates, but has very pretty woodwork, almost all of it intact. The shellac has a lovely snakeskin texture in places.

I've been wasting some time playing Magic: the Gathering for the first time in six years or so. Incredible timesink, that.

I've had nothing but Sarah's Fallen on my playlist for a week or so. It's sortof a marathon. ;)

I took a break from LJ. Sorry for delayed comments! :)

*hugs* :)
19th-Nov-2003 02:27 pm (UTC) - Go! Magic!
We should play. :-)

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