She discovered why he smiles
so pleasantly towards her.
But she couldn't allow him to
think anything permanent or
futuristic. simply due to her lack of
not being anywhere attracted to him.
His freind told her to let him hear how
she cursed and smoke in front of
him: this would surely turn him off.
This would put any feelings towards
her to rest. Yet neither to inspire or
encourage him she did so.
His stomach soured towards her without
any regrets or furthering. In fact he began
avoiding her. Compare the dlow or
transference of: to either counter or clockwise.
The nuclei comes together
as the perfect absorber Her words the linear
line equal to. Musicality related verbs in genre.
The Flow. he walz the Flow.
The Quonset could be used. If Digging and Berming it
would be feasible and suitable for the task. The flat area
is unique enough for a house.
by: Dr. Moun Anion Ampere
Ensign Dynamic Inc.
A Company Electron Entity
of Brusa Crom Music LLC
Bundle and Game Matrix
of Blackbody Physics
and Subwoofers
Brusa and Kantanka
" Bassa De Tremble"!
If hurt was a man
that man could have been me
If hurt had a face
that could have been mine
When I look into the mirror
The thing I see isn't me
When I look into myself
What I see is a stranger
A stranger hurt and bitter
If hurt was a mother
I could have been her son
If I had a sister
That sister would have been pain
My family would have been shame
All I feel is pain, pained and hurt
Existence might be a gift
But my life is a curse
If words were a place
Hurt would have been my yard
And pain my dwelling
My heart is burren of bliss
Dark like winter Sahara nights
Happiness is an abomination
Abominable to my life
Shame are my in-laws
and Loathe my wife
I know all the hues of hurt
I am a rainbow of pain
If life was a ball game
I could have been the ball
Hurt and pain the players
In a pitch of shame
On the Himalayas winter nights
Hate and shame spectators
Arbor the ampere
My heart bleeds
It bleeds blocks of ice
Ice of painful hurt
This broken heart of mine
And this troubled mind I have
Are hanging like vampire bats
Hiding in smiles during the day
Breaking free by night
To torment my poor soul
We dance the confines of our far apart
as though the distance was a normal thing
of cages now estopping lumens' touch
in empires of imperial decree
where lawful ownership is thus allowed
of geometric shapes though air we breath
and blood pulsating does each ampere haunt
in order to preserve the ruling see.
But each time I'm denied the warmth of touch
I feel the dying of my human soul
in algorithms of a bastard psalm
now written thus a darkness could then drain
the very essence keeping it in place.
We have but hope we of the people kind
against the plasma lacking in their ilk,
but hold the ancient yearnings in our watts.
Our tears are but the echoes of the verse
that bound us in millenia now past
but since the onion skin was put to flame
or so the elders tell us in the runes,
our future is now prayers to opal ash
that once glowed with the prophets' DNA
since passed to us as chosen ones of light,
extinguished for their once brave-spoken truth.
Let's take the tinglings few that we can feel,
imagining a world of verdant past.
We'll keep the currents as the spawn of faith
and pray the vibrant land will reappear.
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