Ponderous PigeonSupporterThis blog pays for a plan and keeps the site running.

Lost.

Similar to a sneeze that was not forgiven. It stays within me. If only a high-true could wipe away all that it implies.

Bless you.

Many names have been tattooed across my flesh and yours is the only one that doesn't heal.

For all the today's spent thinking about tomorrow.

I hope to see you then.

Just waiting to be taken off the shelf. All the stories I would freely share, should you just put your hands on me. Chapters of life long lived, lived long ago.
Pages of parables poignantly placed per your pleasure.
Please take me off the shelf. I have a story I'd like to tell.
It starts with the most fascinating person finding an old book...

I have been questioning my existence ever since I knew I had one. And while ownership has never been contested. I still question if it's mine.

I do not believe in a higher power. So I will not give credit to my existence.

Should my fate end in hell, I would request an audience.

So that whomever be so bold, can declare authorship.

Lips so beautiful and lush, like pillows, not to rest your head, but your dreams.

Gaze upon all of the words I have collected over the years. How might I arrange them? So that I may have your acceptance.