and each time it was the same though forgotten

as a boy i ran along the fine edge of a long chasm every night almost lalling

i did time

i drank for sorrow and love

i told him to stand still and he looked at me and i said ok and he went and smelled the house

i'll bring my songbirds but i can't promise they'll sing

ichthyuss progress

is that a flute. i used to hate flutes. i like that sound. is that a flute?

he remains unconvinced though no one is trying

remains unconvinced (astral)

the god of tomorrow will be faceless

the things we come back as

that was pretty much how it looked had i been there and altered everything