Tracing lines back thousands of years, for what appears to be true is not quite valid. Pull back layers of darkness, lines of red, take the cross off of the man.
Mediterranean, Middle East, 1001 days, my Roman Empire to the Persian Empire, set out for changing roles.
My friend John the Baptist, was wading up to his ankles, and I'm spread a bit thin. He died for you, he told me. I said you died for her. You died because of her. And he died for the idea of saving everyone, without taking her into account, so what exactly are you trying to prove?
He looked at me, disappointed. Yeah, well, you Christian boys typically are.
Sadly, I look on. I miss you already.
I already remember how your eyes shined back at me. I see the waves break, and I see you standing there, helpless, as I walked away. Yet again.
I'm creating my cloud, words and kisses and light touches and I spread this thing about, and it grows, and it gets just a little bit wild and I think, I could go for a storm now. Because, it's not just another kill, it's not just another sex or another beautiful fallen angel. No, it's the way you laugh, you hold me against you, the way it all comes back to me, somewhere, in the beginning. Because I wouldn't have known you, these methodical, precision based cuts, intentions. Comfort, like a perfect strap around ankle, like a finger wrapped about mine.
Sacrifice, respect, I dream of you, I draw maps for you.
Fearless, take Saklas by the hand, we make our way through the forest, dark, frightening. Wouldn't you come here with me, with the demon birds and the hoofed creatures? Wouldn't you take the road adorned with the harpies and the chaos and the sirens and the mora? Would you still take that road I have created for you when I'm no longer alongside?
Soon he'll be gone, love, and you'll be alone, dear.
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