deluded into believing-
charcoal jagged rock stripped from it's underground sanctuary waiting to be blackened onto the page awaiting the inevitable dark, dark as night, yet unrelenting with her stars; brush tainting the canvas with golden paint, each bristle twisting against the current of light mixing the colors, pulling out something magical from nothingness, the barrel of this infinite
gun takes aim with careful nimble fingers waiting, waiting yet it is here; a blank pad full of opportunity full of chances everybody can take, add you to me and have a new place the whiteness of the snow is here on the pad what a longing feeling no longer falling, yet more alive and in depth than life should be; clay a desired shape piecing together the truth and betrothing death
