You, my lovewill never know the agony that lies between the ashen tombstones,the tortured skyscrapers; with their many eyes.or the autumn seasons that..
..and one day i'll write stories about the moon. i'll paint the shapes i see in the shadows. i'll carve weeping children from the trunks of dead trees..
the first time I met God was in a car park outside a superstore.that was when he told me he hated me, with all the bitterness of clouds.told me he was..