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Love.
Love.
Lovely love.
I dare not speak of you. I am wise now. The tricks and magic have shown be both of their sides, and I have pondered it.
This voice I go into when I'm creating and writing is a dramatic whisper - a veil.
I'm not going to tell you.
I'm keeping the secret because last card I talked too much and was drunk with it and cast my spells and drank blood and peed in your hand.
It made me spent.
So, I sat in a chair and thought of myself and how love is but a breathing.
How can you say love is anything? How can I?
Death is behind me.
Fruit is in front of me.
Light obscures the whole.
I know more than I tell.
I am a hunter and the hunted.
All of it.
Is this any better?
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