Thank you, I've been shot.

[DoS Archive]

From: dreystarke@aol.com (DreyStarke)
Date: 09 Jan 2000 01:52:38 EST

As the winter breeze erupts and the winds plaster you with suffocation, you desire nothing more than a bit of warmth. The winter breeze that suckles the breast of death, and the spread of lingering pleasures that puncture the shell of affection. The lips that twist in an enticing gesture, the eyes that flicker a soft azure of knowing passion, and the breath of stale popcorn that wrinkles and overlaps the several
already made ripples in time. Agony that halts times' precedence, or trembling that makes you mourn emotional sweets. Your eyes that tear, and each smeared dollop of water resembles the blisters in your heart.
Demeanors hold silent. The shadows present images of betrayal and despair. They dance around you, as you were the God of the Underworld, they believe you Hades. They then hang you to dry in sorrow, and contain your sympathy for you and only yourself. Your sight is a blur, and movements made unmoving. Lips pursed so tight you cannot commit utterance, nor spout sound. Eyelids flutter over green depths of nothingness, and the hues left colorless.
You seize, and search for the color once more. The hunt proceeds as fate guides you to the pits of weevils, to the lair of effigy.


To gain no sympathy, but just to express himself,




- Drey D'erest Sanchez Starke