The slow eloquence of one's mind returing to the places where ivory boned birds battled for genderless oppession but what of the war worn beasties who fought on cornflower covered mesa looking for the elusive quality of love. But there were no anwers but numerous theories and we bottled them in cobalt and silver and threw them out to the ocean.
We laughed, Let them Fend for Themselves, when We could'nt? We were'nt brave, or noble. Yes we were hard, indignent,unrelentless, dreamy, fanatastically selfish but brave?
To be brave and fight, no, no, no...LEAVE ME ALONE...TO THINK....Let Me Go....TO DREAM....So LET THEM Go...
Let Them Go and Let Them leave...
Smashed Kisses, Webbed Mirror and Glimmering Ice Slivers, Avian Floral Malady.
All four blue and gold bottles are waiting for some to take them, decycpher their fogotten emotions and smash their kisses into perfumed pools of rubies and strawberry juice and waltz away to have someone's visions frostied and glimmer in waves of blessings and hexes.
Better yet, if I have my cloak on and a wand would I be able to bewitch this musical caccaphony into something that was safe, all polite in a box made by the precise hands of a house husband?
Have I come so far? I have tasted so many lips and learned their secerets, I have bed the ghosts of many generations and yet I see traveling, experiencing, books being writing and my wings unbound, unfurling.
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