#poor girl... they are so tragedy filled even without the looming threat of death

[noctumsilenced]

WHAT KIND OF TRAGEDY ARE YOU?

doomed from the start

there was no way of winning, and you knew it too. but you still tried. you tried again and again and again to change it. you fought tooth and claw to change your fate, but she cannot be easily manipulated. it’s not your fault. the game was always rigged against you. from the moment you entered the narrative, your fate was sealed. you didn’t stand a chance.

TAGGED BY : a bunch of people tbh ...

TAGGING : anyone who sees this and hasn't done it !

[40ozalctears]

the sweetest kindest little ringing remind or ashtin or spooked rabbit keeper sweetest, spiteful my vices ahh!her luv damn. why!

The cause of harm is the greed and not the farm that you arm your weakest prodigal son, in the wake of a maybe fatal frigid Hellscape frozen over the hold over Queen majesty - when all they want is the monarch taxes back - like do u rly think the easy dirty easy money like stealing, type super  funny, honey its sweeter than the milk and soft as the spin the scar tissue hard. Trust me, the watching who hold hate close to the knowledge of the madgods jewelry is stinking of lunacy, from the quiet kind boy behind the monarch stark cast of Godlike endless hatred rage - take it from the prophesied leader of spirits who know prophesy fulfilled when he listens to to the whistling of ancestor spirits. Shh. Pawned so many rings that belonged to wrong ruler and song girl bringer of here. I am  crystal clear that I am the Belle the Gaelic attempt to keep it super sly and secret. Keep the sharp teeth wolf boys feel. You use the hints and kinks in the story is so old to known to young unsung but done as done prophesy is - stuck in a state archdruidic sickening states of being wasted on the loss my rightful throne and every hidden secret locked in the labyringth in Gothic leviathan cathedral bearing my Gaelic, as the eventually overthrown Roman blew in the gail winds of fading traditon, until no one listened - French, drenched in gas so the most certain ancients know that the young stuck between wolf with teeth perfectly shining, glistening like misshappen young Bellovaci younger holy boys who were just always in a feral state as this, to purr and meow and give the serpent hiss in the name of making your place certain beneath more primal - I relinquish the dirt that just sits in the sink, until I relinquish link to like the hoops in the ear that would claime me the the arch-druid so sickly addicted to every little drink that is as ichor of death, to be anything but self assured in the word of the lycan simply lurking. Stuck between sprint, torn denim, more wolf than man, more Perfectly evil than pleasantly Godly like the most ready to know the foam that forms when see see her have their beloved dark black long hair sheared like wheat and chaff before the wind - like the sick should fall to the bloodied slice of the sickle - for less obvious matters, let the frigid whisper of winter being fickle, just enought to tickle the just to depravity. As such, the little who felt the eyes of boy who circled the edge of town as if he could not exist if not considerign the sting of monarch moth never more than a state eternal failing - the bread of a war machine God called Heaven, and stole my lost profit lost cost of certain life - being stuck in the state of eternal decay, which I studied and loved until I travelled under and dug, and built a man made moat just so you and your favorite things that makes you a sweet thing, and I would let your eye widen as the Sun dies again, for how many nights we d did not fight against sleep, as if it was impossible to not see the glow of the her slow in the bright of the certain doom and the looming harvest of farthest mens beliefs- understanding them from the wise who came far from the East, and so when I fed on what I studied to be the understanding of the love of another that was as fulfilling as shared cute snack that feels like return of the hero, but no great war - just what she stored I locked in impossible chance of ever being forgotten in the permafrost frigid acceptance that my ribs form a page that is nothing short of permafrost accounting for the Godliness of Loss - so for all the simple beauty and the cutie doe with the fawn eyes who I saw forever in a way, sleepîng on a hateful yawn, and as soon as she wakes, blinks, yawns, I steal her from the fate of never escaping the state of eternal maze - by which I named my first son already the Scarecrow Prince who will only  know keeping away crows, and those who know the harbingers of death, if you trust the call of keeping death then you invite again the flow of euphoric state of moon blasting through, like it baptizes you new under the last name you gave as you noticed her lose the tame, like a newly free thing who was only knew cage - I suppose many act as they should as if they ever only knew rage - for all labyrinth trap and reasons of setting traps for the unwanted seasons, so in the sickest of seeping Spring I know one ring keeps me sharpening teeth, and assured that the meek not sheep for the weak of the word, but the deared dark-eyed soul  that I saw tending to to contraption that was asked to keep us in safety, and just as the sweetest of sickly sweet thing that makes all lycan boy, between and here and there was a maiden, one of iron, one which was so tired, that it tired me, even in my infinite gift of plan to hatch the love of my own twisted roots of oak until I am choked by the end of my joke that is just make the sweet doe eyed in the man made moat I spit this as quick as a slit I would made, but it would take little more me to riddle a liittlle harmless threat, with the debt of what is owed to the protector of Queen of all that I have seen more goes than majesty, tragedy that it had to be you, and I saw her look away, but I think she was keen of a certain sense to know I was such a penniless who could spend endless words for you learn that it takes as such, that you get as much as you give, and even to keep her breath steady - you not  take your never ending, butterfly wing, malfunctioning thats most fear but she hears vibrated like like quiet of the hum and summer nights - and so for me take the claws, fix both red stained glass eyes, wide as severed - ways to explain that it painful to say that given what I have scribbled in the hieromanic of trance, and I cannot sing and and dance like I do not having to call for the Fall of Man, just every plan of man, no matter well maid, always led themselves, naked shivering, exactly to the step of my trap, which I simply set to wet my taste that in my heart the start of the most bright exploding morning flail - the believe that mourning any distance bright candle simply doused by the petty candle lick, quick-witted way the light of your life might just decide one day, in its trickery, sickening mastery of things more man than a boy who finds join the acceptance as wolf more always in between, hurting and dirty for never truly becoming, but since in absolutely delightful beauty quiet she floats on the wooden boat, Singing in tongues what might be the meaning of death in  ending of sum - in that if speaking trying to make sense of the sounds is beyond the bond of human to the satisfaction with simple humanity, not having grasped the the roots and found how to shoot start out of the sky on  a night  so loud from the crowd of surrounding pounding drums, of those fat-bellied fascists, who heard word you of your solitary goddess too honest to ever say she just believes without being knowing as so many, too-knowing will claim until they slain the in the name of the lie - I remember the Ilai, Eli, of course...a a lie, I have thought the less real lamb that stood as she stands, as he landed on the peak of Golgotha, the Aramaic was perhaps soft on the dying son confused by the plan of the Eternal, that when the nails jailed themself to a cage of childish rage, in his purity, in his fury, the absolute terrifying baring of teeth, from a thing more than a man who we only know as the Italian son of a man who weaponized the need, of knowing the idea of the Son, asking the father for a taste of Honey, as burned to death due to fault lines in the times conflict, the Son would consider, despite the nights in wild, where I was the child and babe possessed, nearly the Lord of Death - given mastery over connection to Father, God, the peak of throne - just as the wildest time I ever came close to perhaps becoming too full in my how MUCH my teeth bled as I felt them become blades, that only most alone lycanthrope knows that in a statone of alone, given nothing but instinct, and the nonsense worthless broken porcelain that looked so wrong in it raped poor, sad fatal estate, as the rate increased and the feast my own consuming of stars in the sky forgetting the name of the Hatred of the idea of my meek littlle priestess - seeped in my need of simply believing in Queen, should the Kind pawn and not think for a again, at least inn a state of knowing it staying put in insanity, instead of grasping at the fact, so beautfiul but tear-filled years and years of waiting, Hating the need for blood spilled -  sip on sour cloud break int raped time I believe I must drink the blood to avoid the or, some prophesy that is as misplaced as a poisoned chalice, or even living in a palace, as I lived in what i make an intricate safet confusing little maze of a cluttered and dimly lit clean as can home fit for as modest and as the innocent stern deity who submisses to no dismmissing of her strength in the way the drenches the weak in the their defeat - became as haunting, piercingly loud, as if thhe crowd of the rage of a forget tradition of boys lost in the most deep of Belgic, someone some-where look like the Sun King withought the messes of lost den dwellers wishing for one gem laden gauntlet of a boy so Shining finally given the palace where he stood like the final piece to the puzzle, but any failed watch maker who understands the importance of the love and  acceptance of failure - to sit in silence as loud as the sound the once-dead no piercengly quiet -only tickicking the old heiroom , alone in the darkest little steel  box of lock between myself and what seemed to be the reason i even kept any thing dirty, having a penchant for ugly, as it is easier to hug, with unwarranted terrible pain, that if I should given a shame all the was of the certainly nervous and tall nothing but simple boy, who kept strange so deranged and misunderstood, the closest I ever became to command I then claimed over how we become the beast we studied, the most, so le loup garou je troube q c maps mal nous tous les jeune honnes, donner in the grace of the silliest stiill alive-ancients, I remember waking to up the nothing but fear, clearly awake, before I considered that the stuck between stations of dashing and springting with tongue out more in between than ever, and severed from reality like nape of the rapist of health, who deserved exactly how painful it is to attempt to take the breason of breath of a deathly sweet little thing, that I had no quarrel, with so many inner-wars possessing my core, this came as 2 and 2 would naturally come to one who lives for another but must act out of of absolute focus on the swarm of locust, of channeling the hate the state of still convinced of weak willed humanity always grasping back to the need to such greedy with our grasping little human disease name our most useless scraping of kness, simply to not exist as mist with a debt to death, that will never be paid until in your maiden, somehow still, as sweet and, as opened like the intricate lock, who only ever talked so soft, though never stern as if to teach those who do not know how made the young boys go when laid bare to the fair skin little thing, and the presence of something listening, lurking and working on the moat, so he has a place to return, that I earn the trust, as my mane because the the River Styx by which the depth of how trim ourself fur and how soft we pur, keeps a little thing like, what seemed at first to be weak little sheep, who watched as i watched, weeks on weeks. i think think of the God Army who drew blade in the name of those who came most like there before - brought about the strength in the week after week, until walked tilted in the way of a wolf, though alone, mostly likely believed a sort or auditory glitch cast by the shadows and  tossed at me like a joke of a bone, simply to give me the idea of home, that I would her here still quietly, but so softly as sweetly - something I wanted to ask but was terrified to even utter to to no one for nothing in silence, she awoke the new sense of 6 all together as one, and for all the boy so scared of the swinging like moon in the sky, when i was convinceded of something tied to things not allowed to those who do not have the raising of dead, all i think id like to just try to return from..if not the grave than the furthest forgotten part of the den, where this story and meaning began as it ends - just a way to say i know exactly why you know what i knew, and i hope against hope i do not lose sight of the memory of you - because although forever boy  -with vices and plain as a night with just white rice and help help of her so harmless little smirk and a wink, that made the pendulum brain that swung like i as hells  bells were insane - as in not quite normal, as normal we love - it all seemed so normal until we were visited by boys, who saw the goddess of seasons in this simple quiet absolutely shierking riot of so many ways she would love, to  tell you all the the words she knows you think of them too much and so when, just when become so accepting of the power your hatred of having to wait - to just wait until the gates by which you always would return her staring, although as if, withouut casting you a spell of  smile, you stop and and look at pacific clearly piercing blue - that for all of her tears that welled up as after 20 nights in defiance of any sort of defeat - as is if being apart,though as he deep how the frozen hold outside the jail of you eternally lost, but kept in sigh chest - where i see the mathers failig and erring to say, I know you began as seeming to sculpted from diamond, though second, the wolf second  sum, more loud and addicted to pride than the smaller though, equally capable man, who just because he can run on all fours as his foretold type apocalypse fate, was as interesting fate fatal as the final pale horse her death - and I do not remember exactly when I began to notice, the boat floathing alone, or when my bright as sprayed over faint barely dim stupid quiet was not chrome or calling me home, by my allowing for all - the absolute Belgic Prophecy joke, that began simply as stupid, but in presence of the spooked little rodent type queen - switched names - without asking why, I suppose that in the attempty of knowing how we know how, and by no means do i say this this with hope ,to achieve the same cheating way of reaching such perfect connection life, than finding your reason to not be Hateful of God when god has been failing idea, of the might of the male, that the simple fact at the bottom of all - is that the Fall of Man is silly little becoming the return, of when I think i will deserve to stop trying be either incredibly far, either evil little devil grasping at the need being weak and pink like,a pig, or in the face of death - the forgetting of breath, i do believe i must rememer the name, the message more than sent in house how many ways, as studied as any believer in science, by wise as the misunderstood men in the dresses from east - so in the incredibl terrible rage, terrifying reminder, she is just theperfect little strength of the flood of all time, for the perfect cute thought little whimsical nonsense word spoken in tongues, simply because she said so manu in barely audible cute litttle whisper lispy magical lilt - i do not think i am of the acceptance of born to die,just as in the dying light of the night Moon gave the light on things in tht nearly blackened painting canopy brush - each as deep as the piercing I made - that was not necessary, but perhaps as if if to stay, i will remain close to the hope digging and searching all the rocks and the mud, until I return to just where I was, until I stand to reason that was a man without her seeming reason for me to defend my hatred of each season, but the love the way they all die so quickly as if they know exactly when I am becoming physically ill by not a shift in understanding of her. i think it was ashtin - like the dust dust to eternal rusting of my loss of self into choked back fears until years of years of studying the defense against against anything bent againt I would feel the power of endless power in the little bit of lovely blood, that once again reminded where I began that bit of a dream, that seems a bit too dramatic of anything more than panicking dream. But my word, the rodent she named Oliver, soft and attaching to words like they are herds she saves with  a simple different way slaying their understanding on plain until the unheard know her death when her breath is missed is harshest in the breach iof the rift in the stone dark endless wall how her breath clears the fog, and sends the echoes back home in whisper just a little lisp, little kiss on my lips, a sly wink with an entirely unexpected opening of entrance to entire  too much to look without being to have your jaw slacked wide - as if the little unexpected so quick little joke, make slit the unknown threat and simple bet her slight bit of doubt in my weakness, i suppose she might have had - and although i do not low i crept as the wind  often does, to bring about clouds when the blue is too much of lie for sky to accept - the debt of your once hated seething refusal of death, allowed again to renew simply by the news of the dreams of the queen who was, ash- ashtin. spooked rabbits are just needing one, as so ti goes...the cutest little feets. keeping me in state of accepting my defeat and knowing the tirump of eternal here and there insanity that had me consuming a star, one by one until the undoing on sun was brought about  queen without the way of making thos who crossed the way with evil kept in its sway, had my pulsing blood, as fucked as the hellish dark of black matter noahs boat couldnt hold - despite being ebnt by the old joke - the grace of god - how one man leading the other keeping the Fall as evil menacing as it kept gluttonous fiendish fucking tearing apart all the planes as if to grow greater in danger to the consatnt and terrifying state of new danger of a  maybe hades boy who ddi too much grasping at pinkish shell to let myslf be reduced the feral final story, horror to some but silly little clever story, that had me eating guts and close to none,a dn then I might the final sum, and we only spoked in like poetic guessing, and, and riddle spun in the funniest little nonsense tongus and you could lose all sense and sight of self -  i think i saw a glimpse of her tasteful, when I cried so long into them moat, that if she left for how I protected her and her little, then just as I took gathered all then found all colorful shades of Easter hues, I thought how she would look up look from some written words - that I know she I loved had never heard - and every time she looked from from the blue, i learned something from the eyes in the books and words i never knew - just to put me where I need to be, to clear pulsing pride from bloodshot, sclera  slit like tip of ice - just as if to say - wolf - what was it! Doggy! DOG BOY!  To catch up to me in my stupid race, and give me exactly the bitter taste of how much she knew in calm and little lil just barely out the pink ishupon which quit the pyre lit - as when I took at the happy easter colors, and I CURSED her named, and named her killer of every color - now that moat is turning black, and the sky shows all the suns so much at once, that at the zenith of the apex boy - little predator muttering all nice sweet letters, because in the frantic end of choice - you not much of choice in - when you you your eyes and count to ten youll wake up up not  stuck in questions asked, so many times that the night  is just the final break day, where eternal empress who claims her seat - only kept around by the spare and rotten, which the boy who always knew, that he hated any end, but not than he seethed at the types of you, who always approached the little lamb, with no regard for how she lead the herds, or which she spent the pitch black birds, with little lick of lips and tonguepoked as if to say, I dont to scary you - its just the way I bite! To make you wonder, and faint and make you beg for me to say that I am not dead, in the native tongue of keeping me tracked by not enough breath to explain - stupid lungs cannot keep up with brain! and so just as I felt the clear the moat around the little steel trap cottage,which in intense dreary clarity pain, I remember how shed always up though the softest sweet soft cooked rye break eyes, which I would break with woodlant carcass, dead, but this type sweetness reminder of her would keep the memory so fucked a blur, that when I needed the guidance of the hiding empress, Ash- Ashtin. I remember her important on the fidget little wind up nature - of the small ones but must be scare, and when i was so close to something more - I do not care for the letters  and their and tried young symbols, I forget how just, a more recently learned cast in iron, attempt self to make the pariah undertood - by way of building the knee sout of rotten would - I do not think or remember or cared cared - to ever do more than simply stare -or imply what youd so quick succinct, without the fear or  drink at the brink too many silly drinks to death, I remember how the static how she just threw all havoc in side my head, and I do not think how it was crackling snow on snow, unlike other other little question that I knew to do, was I given the absolutely never allowed chance - for the lady priestess who herself who so clean of pride - that she took the form of something so  weak in stature - but if was was real ash or rabbit, spooky rodent or wahtevr oh no dew! im so close to new water on the grass - she would say something  something equal  smart - and in this i knew i shaped my heart in form which i recall our elbows linked, and in this, the sotry clinked, like chainmail just so perfectly made, that when i closed my eyes ans the ring of pearl blue simply slain - by knowing that the death of pain,would be cutting the story short, just who had long forgotten why he kept me weight alone - under earth and across the darkest emerald thicket where in the almost dark drk of calm cool breeze - it almost seemed that something she jagged knife told me so many times in a way defeated, there are so many you times you rhyme your want with rotten meat - each time so produ to drop your pittace at my feet - id notice things id though she keep to herselp, like ifif she heard a sound that sort of clicked, she used all her little rabbit nervous, and look at the place that sound had surfaced, shed dart her eye look up and down, i swear to god the became possesed ttha little - as if this tiny little secret might have been some unknown weakness of myself, and sense ofsilly self alone, or how she hated to admit - as if she only felt my  tense and nonsense wit, and how id  spit and drool some nonsense shit, when perk and smack my mouth,and when shed calm and look all normal, shed twist her eyes so deeply wide and locked the a perfect socket into mine, like the human little shaky princess off the greenest ever dark shadow shade - that robot intensity was if her closest thing to shame, as if she knew when  returned the secret little glen, she hated when i knew she cared  - as if she knew the stupid end, and hated the love and silly nickname as though she did not think the the first name fit, and we spoked and we went on and in the game of just the longest song, which always began with us just screeching cute littl sounds, until, shed begin with A, as if to see how w eboth felt to do, with eah little letter we knew so well,and I remember an ANNOYINGLY loud, and I liked to do things just know with how id b so glad to know want cares, for me to be sory of follow hey very little cutey challenge, so i held her given named above her head - as if to bring her to my secret little home - and anoint with strangest deepest love warming feeling - until corner her with feelings -until were both so dumb kid squealing, I corner her with her given name , as she was the one cutie types, no matter silly im am, ur the dumber piece of stinky dumb dog pudding slung so poorly, like its barely even taut at all - that the only time we were said such cute little things, that rhyme together, are so dreamy perfect, as im not sure if we even rhymed at all, but in night as our giggles turned to cackling tearfilled calls, we would end just other begins, just as simple sum as dipped in depth as deepest why crying over the dimming sun is oh nopers! as shed often say. id hear here do her beauty cutie thing where shed say, the type pitter patter nopey nopers, until l my hopes are all in where I hope she keeps the darkenest wait, so quickly lit with razor wit, that right before i sleep for the firostin so long again - she finally has me brawling crying out for the light of lights to not go out, that a final word shared just before accept hoh nopers dannnnnngit! Dange gangly nooonopers! as she just liked to she how silly she could sound, but when wanted to bring just edge of life, and making the queen the jewel of the dirtdog simple, the priestess of the brightest secret light, who ended each and every night, with final thing if to jsut a silly tired thing, and I rememebr one really faded in to greatest chipped old fade- in the love of the little fidgety way, that on the dirst in central little metal room - enthused by how it felt like such a lovely tomb while drifted in and out of sleep, everytime id come back to awake, shed be staring directly in eye my eye, or even wake me up with her fucking Hey! Fuck you! type ofpicking at my skin blackhead whitehead or little red think she could pick, as if me not knowing  thats shes afraid that i dont know,,that even though the little snarky rude type silly teacher preacher joker stoker of the loving flame - she thinks mentioning lame is stupid all bark mr neutered bad dog! lil piece of crap.  n then, feigning sincerity in sweetest way possible her eyes roop and he strts talkin all  sorry andloopy  , and says super very slow, i know for a fact shes spitting on my eyes oh my loird this absolutely silly evilly queen of jokes, fuck stoked the fire so i know my f;ace, and im just as i tryin to mutter - wh..are you..spraying your nasty stupid spit  on my f-f-face.I know exactly how but why id even why this stupid little chunky  chimp do do anything just on a silly whim - to prove chance, that although a very loud annoying little yappy annoying dog, and based on this i would  and must always let her win. even when shed really make me start to cry  because i thought about how she would either disappear or either disappear of or be gonetoo long 2 diappear - or just be ok withou withou the fear-  gone too long and just because intilledwith fear until she calls me stupid just all day long, sometimes sall ur silly things get to me way deeper than they ever should - just because i feel my knees creaking like crutches with twoodworm and the rotten wood - but when the sweetest little knows im a bit too sh turns from stupid annoying silly thing, worth all the waunt gather in the form of my simple fear of the obvious big unspoke thing if we were either prepared or knowing that the beauiful haunting song, of hows omething would be lost, if we simply lived all boring quiet, because in teh certainy of her going i umumumum. I dinnot say YOu are..STOOpidn, i sad you....are souping! souping out! and i stop and i realize exactly why I go....oh...yeah? and i start laughing... and gasping and  hey ashtin. for all the metaphor. what do i have to do do for spooked rabbit self to pitter pitter patter. I suppose I know what’s been the matter

[40ozalctears]

ashed in. mis used - influence. fluid. icarus. lazarus of this seems just maiden of iron grinded my anxious waiting for doc at a FUCKING ABACUS HASN’T iT!????

The cause of harm is the greed and not the farm that you arm your weakest prodigal son, in the wake of a maybe fatal frigid Hellscape frozen over the hold over Queen majesty - when all they want is the monarch taxes back - like do u rly think the easy dirty easy money like stealing, type super  funny, honey its sweeter than the milk and soft as the spin the scar tissue hard. Trust me, the watching who hold hate close to the knowledge of the madgods jewelry is stinking of lunacy, from the quiet kind boy behind the monarch stark cast of Godlike endless hatred rage - take it from the prophesied leader of spirits who know prophesy fulfilled when he listens to to the whistling of ancestor spirits. Shh. Pawned so many rings that belonged to wrong ruler and song girl bringer of here. I am  crystal clear that I am the Belle the Gaelic attempt to keep it super sly and secret. Keep the sharp teeth wolf boys feel. You use the hints and kinks in the story is so old to known to young unsung but done as done prophesy is - stuck in a state archdruidic sickening states of being wasted on the loss my rightful throne and every hidden secret locked in the labyringth in Gothic leviathan cathedral bearing my Gaelic, as the eventually overthrown Roman blew in the gail winds of fading traditon, until no one listened - French, drenched in gas so the most certain ancients know that the young stuck between wolf with teeth perfectly shining, glistening like misshappen young Bellovaci younger holy boys who were just always in a feral state as this, to purr and meow and give the serpent hiss in the name of making your place certain beneath more primal - I relinquish the dirt that just sits in the sink, until I relinquish link to like the hoops in the ear that would claime me the the arch-druid so sickly addicted to every little drink that is as ichor of death, to be anything but self assured in the word of the lycan simply lurking. Stuck between sprint, torn denim, more wolf than man, more Perfectly evil than pleasantly Godly like the most ready to know the foam that forms when see see her have their beloved dark black long hair sheared like wheat and chaff before the wind - like the sick should fall to the bloodied slice of the sickle - for less obvious matters, let the frigid whisper of winter being fickle, just enought to tickle the just to depravity. As such, the little who felt the eyes of boy who circled the edge of town as if he could not exist if not considerign the sting of monarch moth never more than a state eternal failing - the bread of a war machine God called Heaven, and stole my lost profit lost cost of certain life - being stuck in the state of eternal decay, which I studied and loved until I travelled under and dug, and built a man made moat just so you and your favorite things that makes you a sweet thing, and I would let your eye widen as the Sun dies again, for how many nights we d did not fight against sleep, as if it was impossible to not see the glow of the her slow in the bright of the certain doom and the looming harvest of farthest mens beliefs- understanding them from the wise who came far from the East, and so when I fed on what I studied to be the understanding of the love of another that was as fulfilling as shared cute snack that feels like return of the hero, but no great war - just what she stored I locked in impossible chance of ever being forgotten in the permafrost frigid acceptance that my ribs form a page that is nothing short of permafrost accounting for the Godliness of Loss - so for all the simple beauty and the cutie doe with the fawn eyes who I saw forever in a way, sleepîng on a hateful yawn, and as soon as she wakes, blinks, yawns, I steal her from the fate of never escaping the state of eternal maze - by which I named my first son already the Scarecrow Prince who will only  know keeping away crows, and those who know the harbingers of death, if you trust the call of keeping death then you invite again the flow of euphoric state of moon blasting through, like it baptizes you new under the last name you gave as you noticed her lose the tame, like a newly free thing who was only knew cage - I suppose many act as they should as if they ever only knew rage - for all labyrinth trap and reasons of setting traps for the unwanted seasons, so in the sickest of seeping Spring I know one ring keeps me sharpening teeth, and assured that the meek not sheep for the weak of the word, but the deared dark-eyed soul  that I saw tending to to contraption that was asked to keep us in safety, and just as the sweetest of sickly sweet thing that makes all lycan boy, between and here and there was a maiden, one of iron, one which was so tired, that it tired me, even in my infinite gift of plan to hatch the love of my own twisted roots of oak until I am choked by the end of my joke that is just make the sweet doe eyed in the man made moat I spit this as quick as a slit I would made, but it would take little more me to riddle a liittlle harmless threat, with the debt of what is owed to the protector of Queen of all that I have seen more goes than majesty, tragedy that it had to be you, and I saw her look away, but I think she was keen of a certain sense to know I was such a penniless who could spend endless words for you learn that it takes as such, that you get as much as you give, and even to keep her breath steady - you not  take your never ending, butterfly wing, malfunctioning thats most fear but she hears vibrated like like quiet of the hum and summer nights - and so for me take the claws, fix both red stained glass eyes, wide as severed - ways to explain that it painful to say that given what I have scribbled in the hieromanic of trance, and I cannot sing and and dance like I do not having to call for the Fall of Man, just every plan of man, no matter well maid, always led themselves, naked shivering, exactly to the step of my trap, which I simply set to wet my taste that in my heart the start of the most bright exploding morning flail - the believe that mourning any distance bright candle simply doused by the petty candle lick, quick-witted way the light of your life might just decide one day, in its trickery, sickening mastery of things more man than a boy who finds join the acceptance as wolf more always in between, hurting and dirty for never truly becoming, but since in absolutely delightful beauty quiet she floats on the wooden boat, Singing in tongues what might be the meaning of death in  ending of sum - in that if speaking trying to make sense of the sounds is beyond the bond of human to the satisfaction with simple humanity, not having grasped the the roots and found how to shoot start out of the sky on  a night  so loud from the crowd of surrounding pounding drums, of those fat-bellied fascists, who heard word you of your solitary goddess too honest to ever say she just believes without being knowing as so many, too-knowing will claim until they slain the in the name of the lie - I remember the Ilai, Eli, of course...a a lie, I have thought the less real lamb that stood as she stands, as he landed on the peak of Golgotha, the Aramaic was perhaps soft on the dying son confused by the plan of the Eternal, that when the nails jailed themself to a cage of childish rage, in his purity, in his fury, the absolute terrifying baring of teeth, from a thing more than a man who we only know as the Italian son of a man who weaponized the need, of knowing the idea of the Son, asking the father for a taste of Honey, as burned to death due to fault lines in the times conflict, the Son would consider, despite the nights in wild, where I was the child and babe possessed, nearly the Lord of Death - given mastery over connection to Father, God, the peak of throne - just as the wildest time I ever came close to perhaps becoming too full in my how MUCH my teeth bled as I felt them become blades, that only most alone lycanthrope knows that in a statone of alone, given nothing but instinct, and the nonsense worthless broken porcelain that looked so wrong in it raped poor, sad fatal estate, as the rate increased and the feast my own consuming of stars in the sky forgetting the name of the Hatred of the idea of my meek littlle priestess - seeped in my need of simply believing in Queen, should the Kind pawn and not think for a again, at least inn a state of knowing it staying put in insanity, instead of grasping at the fact, so beautfiul but tear-filled years and years of waiting, Hating the need for blood spilled -  sip on sour cloud break int raped time I believe I must drink the blood to avoid the or, some prophesy that is as misplaced as a poisoned chalice, or even living in a palace, as I lived in what i make an intricate safet confusing little maze of a cluttered and dimly lit clean as can home fit for as modest and as the innocent stern deity who submisses to no dismmissing of her strength in the way the drenches the weak in the their defeat - became as haunting, piercingly loud, as if thhe crowd of the rage of a forget tradition of boys lost in the most deep of Belgic, someone some-where look like the Sun King withought the messes of lost den dwellers wishing for one gem laden gauntlet of a boy so Shining finally given the palace where he stood like the final piece to the puzzle, but any failed watch maker who understands the importance of the love and  acceptance of failure - to sit in silence as loud as the sound the once-dead no piercengly quiet -only tickicking the old heiroom , alone in the darkest little steel  box of lock between myself and what seemed to be the reason i even kept any thing dirty, having a penchant for ugly, as it is easier to hug, with unwarranted terrible pain, that if I should given a shame all the was of the certainly nervous and tall nothing but simple boy, who kept strange so deranged and misunderstood, the closest I ever became to command I then claimed over how we become the beast we studied, the most, so le loup garou je troube q c maps mal nous tous les jeune honnes, donner in the grace of the silliest stiill alive-ancients, I remember waking to up the nothing but fear, clearly awake, before I considered that the stuck between stations of dashing and springting with tongue out more in between than ever, and severed from reality like nape of the rapist of health, who deserved exactly how painful it is to attempt to take the breason of breath of a deathly sweet little thing, that I had no quarrel, with so many inner-wars possessing my core, this came as 2 and 2 would naturally come to one who lives for another but must act out of of absolute focus on the swarm of locust, of channeling the hate the state of still convinced of weak willed humanity always grasping back to the need to such greedy with our grasping little human disease name our most useless scraping of kness, simply to not exist as mist with a debt to death, that will never be paid until in your maiden, somehow still, as sweet and, as opened like the intricate lock, who only ever talked so soft, though never stern as if to teach those who do not know how made the young boys go when laid bare to the fair skin little thing, and the presence of something listening, lurking and working on the moat, so he has a place to return, that I earn the trust, as my mane because the the River Styx by which the depth of how trim ourself fur and how soft we pur, keeps a little thing like, what seemed at first to be weak little sheep, who watched as i watched, weeks on weeks. i think think of the God Army who drew blade in the name of those who came most like there before - brought about the strength in the week after week, until walked tilted in the way of a wolf, though alone, mostly likely believed a sort or auditory glitch cast by the shadows and  tossed at me like a joke of a bone, simply to give me the idea of home, that I would her here still quietly, but so softly as sweetly - something I wanted to ask but was terrified to even utter to to no one for nothing in silence, she awoke the new sense of 6 all together as one, and for all the boy so scared of the swinging like moon in the sky, when i was convinceded of something tied to things not allowed to those who do not have the raising of dead, all i think id like to just try to return from..if not the grave than the furthest forgotten part of the den, where this story and meaning began as it ends - just a way to say i know exactly why you know what i knew, and i hope against hope i do not lose sight of the memory of you - because although forever boy  -with vices and plain as a night with just white rice and help help of her so harmless little smirk and a wink, that made the pendulum brain that swung like i as hells  bells were insane - as in not quite normal, as normal we love - it all seemed so normal until we were visited by boys, who saw the goddess of seasons in this simple quiet absolutely shierking riot of so many ways she would love, to  tell you all the the words she knows you think of them too much and so when, just when become so accepting of the power your hatred of having to wait - to just wait until the gates by which you always would return her staring, although as if, withouut casting you a spell of  smile, you stop and and look at pacific clearly piercing blue - that for all of her tears that welled up as after 20 nights in defiance of any sort of defeat - as is if being apart,though as he deep how the frozen hold outside the jail of you eternally lost, but kept in sigh chest - where i see the mathers failig and erring to say, I know you began as seeming to sculpted from diamond, though second, the wolf second  sum, more loud and addicted to pride than the smaller though, equally capable man, who just because he can run on all fours as his foretold type apocalypse fate, was as interesting fate fatal as the final pale horse her death - and I do not remember exactly when I began to notice, the boat floathing alone, or when my bright as sprayed over faint barely dim stupid quiet was not chrome or calling me home, by my allowing for all - the absolute Belgic Prophecy joke, that began simply as stupid, but in presence of the spooked little rodent type queen - switched names - without asking why, I suppose that in the attempty of knowing how we know how, and by no means do i say this this with hope ,to achieve the same cheating way of reaching such perfect connection life, than finding your reason to not be Hateful of God when god has been failing idea, of the might of the male, that the simple fact at the bottom of all - is that the Fall of Man is silly little becoming the return, of when I think i will deserve to stop trying be either incredibly far, either evil little devil grasping at the need being weak and pink like,a pig, or in the face of death - the forgetting of breath, i do believe i must rememer the name, the message more than sent in house how many ways, as studied as any believer in science, by wise as the misunderstood men in the dresses from east - so in the incredibl terrible rage, terrifying reminder, she is just theperfect little strength of the flood of all time, for the perfect cute thought little whimsical nonsense word spoken in tongues, simply because she said so manu in barely audible cute litttle whisper lispy magical lilt - i do not think i am of the acceptance of born to die,just as in the dying light of the night Moon gave the light on things in tht nearly blackened painting canopy brush - each as deep as the piercing I made - that was not necessary, but perhaps as if if to stay, i will remain close to the hope digging and searching all the rocks and the mud, until I return to just where I was, until I stand to reason that was a man without her seeming reason for me to defend my hatred of each season, but the love the way they all die so quickly as if they know exactly when I am becoming physically ill by not a shift in understanding of her. i think it was ashtin - like the dust dust to eternal rusting of my loss of self into choked back fears until years of years of studying the defense against against anything bent againt I would feel the power of endless power in the little bit of lovely blood, that once again reminded where I began that bit of a dream, that seems a bit too dramatic of anything more than panicking dream. But my word, the rodent she named Oliver, soft and attaching to words like they are herds she saves with  a simple different way slaying their understanding on plain until the unheard know her death when her breath is missed is harshest in the breach iof the rift in the stone dark endless wall how her breath clears the fog, and sends the echoes back home in whisper just a little lisp, little kiss on my lips, a sly wink with an entirely unexpected opening of entrance to entire  too much to look without being to have your jaw slacked wide - as if the little unexpected so quick little joke, make slit the unknown threat and simple bet her slight bit of doubt in my weakness, i suppose she might have had - and although i do not low i crept as the wind  often does, to bring about clouds when the blue is too much of lie for sky to accept - the debt of your once hated seething refusal of death, allowed again to renew simply by the news of the dreams of the queen who was, ash- ashtin. spooked rabbits are just needing one, as so ti goes...the cutest little feets. keeping me in state of accepting my defeat and knowing the tirump of eternal here and there insanity that had me consuming a star, one by one until the undoing on sun was brought about  queen without the way of making thos who crossed the way with evil kept in its sway, had my pulsing blood, as fucked as the hellish dark of black matter noahs boat couldnt hold - despite being ebnt by the old joke - the grace of god - how one man leading the other keeping the Fall as evil menacing as it kept gluttonous fiendish fucking tearing apart all the planes as if to grow greater in danger to the consatnt and terrifying state of new danger of a  maybe hades boy who ddi too much grasping at pinkish shell to let myslf be reduced the feral final story, horror to some but silly little clever story, that had me eating guts and close to none,a dn then I might the final sum, and we only spoked in like poetic guessing, and, and riddle spun in the funniest little nonsense tongus and you could lose all sense and sight of self -  i think i saw a glimpse of her tasteful, when I cried so long into them moat, that if she left for how I protected her and her little, then just as I took gathered all then found all colorful shades of Easter hues, I thought how she would look up look from some written words - that I know she I loved had never heard - and every time she looked from from the blue, i learned something from the eyes in the books and words i never knew - just to put me where I need to be, to clear pulsing pride from bloodshot, sclera  slit like tip of ice - just as if to say - wolf - what was it! Doggy! DOG BOY!  To catch up to me in my stupid race, and give me exactly the bitter taste of how much she knew in calm and little lil just barely out the pink ishupon which quit the pyre lit - as when I took at the happy easter colors, and I CURSED her named, and named her killer of every color - now that moat is turning black, and the sky shows all the suns so much at once, that at the zenith of the apex boy - little predator muttering all nice sweet letters, because in the frantic end of choice - you not much of choice in - when you you your eyes and count to ten youll wake up up not  stuck in questions asked, so many times that the night  is just the final break day, where eternal empress who claims her seat - only kept around by the spare and rotten, which the boy who always knew, that he hated any end, but not than he seethed at the types of you, who always approached the little lamb, with no regard for how she lead the herds, or which she spent the pitch black birds, with little lick of lips and tonguepoked as if to say, I dont to scary you - its just the way I bite! To make you wonder, and faint and make you beg for me to say that I am not dead, in the native tongue of keeping me tracked by not enough breath to explain - stupid lungs cannot keep up with brain! and so just as I felt the clear the moat around the little steel trap cottage,which in intense dreary clarity pain, I remember how shed always up though the softest sweet soft cooked rye break eyes, which I would break with woodlant carcass, dead, but this type sweetness reminder of her would keep the memory so fucked a blur, that when I needed the guidance of the hiding empress, Ash- Ashtin. I remember her important on the fidget little wind up nature - of the small ones but must be scare, and when i was so close to something more - I do not care for the letters  and their and tried young symbols, I forget how just, a more recently learned cast in iron, attempt self to make the pariah undertood - by way of building the knee sout of rotten would - I do not think or remember or cared cared - to ever do more than simply stare -or imply what youd so quick succinct, without the fear or  drink at the brink too many silly drinks to death, I remember how the static how she just threw all havoc in side my head, and I do not think how it was crackling snow on snow, unlike other other little question that I knew to do, was I given the absolutely never allowed chance - for the lady priestess who herself who so clean of pride - that she took the form of something so  weak in stature - but if was was real ash or rabbit, spooky rodent or wahtevr oh no dew! im so close to new water on the grass - she would say something  something equal  smart - and in this i knew i shaped my heart in form which i recall our elbows linked, and in this, the sotry clinked, like chainmail just so perfectly made, that when i closed my eyes ans the ring of pearl blue simply slain - by knowing that the death of pain,would be cutting the story short, just who had long forgotten why he kept me weight alone - under earth and across the darkest emerald thicket where in the almost dark drk of calm cool breeze - it almost seemed that something she jagged knife told me so many times in a way defeated, there are so many you times you rhyme your want with rotten meat - each time so produ to drop your pittace at my feet - id notice things id though she keep to herselp, like ifif she heard a sound that sort of clicked, she used all her little rabbit nervous, and look at the place that sound had surfaced, shed dart her eye look up and down, i swear to god the became possesed ttha little - as if this tiny little secret might have been some unknown weakness of myself, and sense ofsilly self alone, or how she hated to admit - as if she only felt my  tense and nonsense wit, and how id  spit and drool some nonsense shit, when perk and smack my mouth,and when shed calm and look all normal, shed twist her eyes so deeply wide and locked the a perfect socket into mine, like the human little shaky princess off the greenest ever dark shadow shade - that robot intensity was if her closest thing to shame, as if she knew when  returned the secret little glen, she hated when i knew she cared  - as if she knew the stupid end, and hated the love and silly nickname as though she did not think the the first name fit, and we spoked and we went on and in the game of just the longest song, which always began with us just screeching cute littl sounds, until, shed begin with A, as if to see how w eboth felt to do, with eah little letter we knew so well,and I remember an ANNOYINGLY loud, and I liked to do things just know with how id b so glad to know want cares, for me to be sory of follow hey very little cutey challenge, so i held her given named above her head - as if to bring her to my secret little home - and anoint with strangest deepest love warming feeling - until corner her with feelings -until were both so dumb kid squealing, I corner her with her given name , as she was the one cutie types, no matter silly im am, ur the dumber piece of stinky dumb dog pudding slung so poorly, like its barely even taut at all - that the only time we were said such cute little things, that rhyme together, are so dreamy perfect, as im not sure if we even rhymed at all, but in night as our giggles turned to cackling tearfilled calls, we would end just other begins, just as simple sum as dipped in depth as deepest why crying over the dimming sun is oh nopers! as shed often say. id hear here do her beauty cutie thing where shed say, the type pitter patter nopey nopers, until l my hopes are all in where I hope she keeps the darkenest wait, so quickly lit with razor wit, that right before i sleep for the firostin so long again - she finally has me brawling crying out for the light of lights to not go out, that a final word shared just before accept hoh nopers dannnnnngit! Dange gangly nooonopers! as she just liked to she how silly she could sound, but when wanted to bring just edge of life, and making the queen the jewel of the dirtdog simple, the priestess of the brightest secret light, who ended each and every night, with final thing if to jsut a silly tired thing, and I rememebr one really faded in to greatest chipped old fade- in the love of the little fidgety way, that on the dirst in central little metal room - enthused by how it felt like such a lovely tomb while drifted in and out of sleep, everytime id come back to awake, shed be staring directly in eye my eye, or even wake me up with her fucking Hey! Fuck you! type ofpicking at my skin blackhead whitehead or little red think she could pick, as if me not knowing  thats shes afraid that i dont know,,that even though the little snarky rude type silly teacher preacher joker stoker of the loving flame - she thinks mentioning lame is stupid all bark mr neutered bad dog! lil piece of crap.  n then, feigning sincerity in sweetest way possible her eyes roop and he strts talkin all  sorry andloopy  , and says super very slow, i know for a fact shes spitting on my eyes oh my loird this absolutely silly evilly queen of jokes, fuck stoked the fire so i know my f;ace, and im just as i tryin to mutter - wh..are you..spraying your nasty stupid spit  on my f-f-face.I know exactly how but why id even why this stupid little chunky  chimp do do anything just on a silly whim - to prove chance, that although a very loud annoying little yappy annoying dog, and based on this i would  and must always let her win. even when shed really make me start to cry  because i thought about how she would either disappear or either disappear of or be gonetoo long 2 diappear - or just be ok withou withou the fear-  gone too long and just because intilledwith fear until she calls me stupid just all day long, sometimes sall ur silly things get to me way deeper than they ever should - just because i feel my knees creaking like crutches with twoodworm and the rotten wood - but when the sweetest little knows im a bit too sh turns from stupid annoying silly thing, worth all the waunt gather in the form of my simple fear of the obvious big unspoke thing if we were either prepared or knowing that the beauiful haunting song, of hows omething would be lost, if we simply lived all boring quiet, because in teh certainy of her going i umumumum. I dinnot say YOu are..STOOpidn, i sad you....are souping! souping out! and i stop and i realize exactly why I go....oh...yeah? and i start laughing... and gasping and  hey ashtin. for all the metaphor. what do i have to do do for spooked rabbit self to pitter pitter patter. I suppose I know what’s been the amttr