chaucer was not here to see my prayers float into the sky

Today, has been two years since i was shot to death outside of the train depot in what i call "clover ally".

moments

in small doses of moments we take back what is ours..

ghosts..

from time to time they.. think we started to fade.. but we've always been here.. not lost against the rubble like they..

*+*:: Å ::*+*!andale!*+*:: Å ::*+*

as wind rattled the rib cages of cloud obsessed sky

it was never quite the same

as my foot left my landing and the door was closed.

textures of ghosts as little girls under stop signs

is a gurgling or rattle-like noise produced shortly before or after death by the accumulation of excessive respiratory secretions in the

to drop

exists not a sound
exists not a sound the drive home was long
the walk was much longer
exists not a sound
exists not a sound the errors of our reports.