If it could only be that voice that is not of one, but one of many. I could carry the sound of that voice to this place i know so well.
Its beneathe the lung that breathes and the liver that shivers for its feast upon this voice that echoes amoung his body. I could love such a being. But a being that could be loved as though he were a beast of many.
Running scared of this cause, im latent to his heart and plungent to his mind. I could be to him as a rose on the snow that has beauty breathing out from its thorns to caputure one.
And to tear his flesh; the beloved that drips the red that is unseen to this sactum.
Like red rain drops to the door of this holy place. I not yet ready--
But ready to hold the hand of this sollitude.
What shall i seek, for he is here and devoted.As for another, he seeks the comfort of the soft and timid. I shall not be there, but be as i may dwell ...to good fortune and lust for this body I quiver in this house of the knowing. To be taken yet again by vow.
