pretty-yin

Oily animals break dark water; I breach, you dive beneath the still surface with only thin film left behind.

It was the missing pen that seemed insurmountable. - She, said to be indomitable, could hear it, just over the noise of the fan at midnight. It did not lurk quietly in the dark. It did not whisper. It moved simply like a house guest come in at an odd hour. It knocked, politely, but it would not be refused entry. - It was the search, vain and futile, that took out her foundation. Erosion from the base, it wore at the oldest, hardest parts of her with constant rushing and withdrawal. - She had tried to starve it out, but she could not isolate it. It was not singular; it was pervasive, and she had not gotten it all the las

And in the shadow of Colossus, we stand. You are he in miniature; you have lost his grand scale and reanimated his remnants. You have uncovered silt from his neck for me. You have shown me the scale of his body in the model of your own. You speak and his voice echoes. You move, and I see how he once moved like you. You have revealed to me that which I have searched for under sediment. But I have found no need for your corroded traditions, your rusted nobility. To divorce the shadow is victory.

Oily animals break dark water; I breach, you dive beneath the still surface with only thin film left behind.

You are East of Autumn; you are empty air. You are barely brittle, a question whose answer will seize up months you have no will or power to arrest. You are not the stiffening, stubborn tundra; you are a promise and not a covenant. You are not fixed, forbidden from the West. You, too, must know a day to set.

Devil's working in this mischief Reverent observers are lost in a Intentional mistranslation, I Never thought "I think," I thought "Know," Is this how I lost faith?

I am drawn downward into the sea. The bay and its inlets have captured me, eroding. I am taken, a bit of clay and dust and dirt every minute that I remain still and stay. But, God help me, I cannot get away.