So deep it didn't even bleed  

8/14/2005 8:05 pm Last Read: 3/5/2006 9:28 pm

<I see him again, I hear him, and I could bite my hands at the agony of not being able to describe it.> Henri Alban Fourier The Wanderer My heart-- It's broken... And I keep cutting myself every time I try picking up the pieces. It must be made of glass: to be so fragile as to break at the drop of a word. The way a word resounds, glancing off its sides, reverberating and shaking it to pieces. Although the music it makes is splendid, enough to raise the hairs on my arm, to curl my toes, what risk it must be-- to play for echoes at the price of tragedy.

wanders 1789 posts  8/15/2005 9:21 pm

drunken angel...misty mountains...cyrstals hanging by the caves ...hope your drinkin from the fountain of youth...and not at the realms of pride and pretty smiles...God bless you!