My Honey Baby Wood
May 15, 2010 | x3 (6) | In 9m | Fear & Terror Are But False Transparencies | Before The Song Of Brothers
(Sung For Me Or Not For Me, I Don’t Know, It Seems So, 7 Days Ago)
– – –
The honey from my unmade babies
couldn’t fill the buckets
as fast
as that rain could fill my desire for
my honey to
fill you
every night.
Once my sunburn was enough heat baby,
I am burned,
still.
Baby, come as you were once where as I am,
still.
This is unlike the story it was written to be.
– – –
Your here claimed is not an open one. My here is ready this for, I need more.
I don’t wish myself a less than piece of a collection. Yes, just as you don’t, do you see you here hence my affection.
Where And What Am I, I Am Not Laughing | May 17, 2010 | Direct And After The Song Of Brothers
I Am King Edward, I Know You Know Where I Am, I Therefore Forever Listen
– – –
“These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Therefore love moderately: long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.” – aII, sIV