Naughty LiL Syn's Page

His shoulders are like tabernacles... laden mosques, forever solid under the wait of my architectural prayer, erected piece by piece ('bye peace) under fading moon, 'neath watching skies, near the core of my flailing religion; atop sacred ground. There --> I've been lost, not wanting to be found, like inlaid parables, bound; placed inexorably by the root of the original poet-tree, pretending virginal postures, sweetly sinning as he curves me in softest soliloquy 'til I am wrapped 'round his… Continue

Supposing that the relevance of time is not tethered to the tentacles of tomorrow's whim, that, this thin transference of daylight to dim, is just a reflection of evangelical thought and not a realistic lesson, taught in birth... ...would it be worth your imagined years to bleed faith dry of every, single, fear that has overcome your dawn, (tell me) would I be terribly wrong for inquiring as to the grinding halt of the sun when the only one left laughing in this paradoxical conundrum is, the ra… Continue