(no subject)

And I've dragged her away from all that has haunted her. And she's dragged right back to reality. A widow and a mother has called her.

The autopsy is wrong, the story never syncs up. Much like the stories from the mouth of the man and the people around him.

I'm drinking the wrong wine, and she's singing the right song. Do we have tobacco?

I've got the wrong ideas, and she's got the wrong plan. I'm looking right at her, and I'm seeing nothing, and I'm seeing everything she's got.

I'm a tree. The goddamned world tree. And my roots are deep and bloody, and my branches are whipped and torn asunder in a storm.

And I'm still standing. And the world I love is still safe beneath me.

"i'm just running with a fantasy world religious thing; but he embraced my goddess."

Thank god I'm here. Right here. There is no other place I would want to be. Giving everything, taking everything, accepting it all.

breathing, breathing, constantly breathing...

...

we are still alive. but right now, i don't know how to touch her.