there is a distant danger growing all around these feelings, and i am on the verge of persuasion. the sharpness to the thyme, is making this herb appear in a whole new darkness. the flick of a serpent's tongues, in a mythological, eerie, condensed swing of relinquished obscenities has everything rather distorted in an daisy tone of empty beer bottle vision. the blade, gleaming with action, looks a helluva lot better when places closer to my skin. the pain, wincing at it's capabilities, have everything sort of fizzing around the edges. the heat of sudden opportunity collapsing on the merriment of all that could happen with swift and quick reacting.
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