Bø¬…l]l..* Valgyre☆

It is art itself the way i can anoint you with dashes and scraps, where i have a lisp at gun point..

.. and i whispered paints ..

Rich and pointy, Grease and oily

my earnings in cash, my love in criminal offense acts

I beautified innocence and break its back

all of this and the tidy writing isn't where you think it’s at

not a day is owed and i sowed two dwellings habation and isolation each is a sweet relaspe of what i know of myself and how a black line can describe me (i have no sercets that could be found of me here)

no wreck or harlot could hide this under their tongues to which star cusp is theirs or might i say yours

i have the space of a giant and a closed speck of eyes each one drawn, carved, betted on, and liquified

there’s no home for me or break out

the walls are too tall now but i have gotten taller

if it’s this simple black line or a undeniable strong force

that line is just as strong

but what reconcile is there to have a quantity of your sturdiest of lines, brains, hearts, and losses to measure my time here

and continuement

to vanish is to stop just at dot to never move me into one of its finest of the fine

i bless the riches and they bless me (creation)

i coughed and gotten healed instantly

just reassure me and don't count me out numbered and fatherless

have it as a hand on a clock made set and pointed right, translucide and all

an army of rocks and classic arts

savored and age effortlessley,

to leave what breaks now and be sealed in a timeless black line..

the shells drop here.