Sherman’s Black Forest, Spiked.

Subject guilt and there is no demarcation in parable.

Time stood still like I had understood what was the vent-quill into existence.
Sleepy Beautie had found her sight and in might proved,
That this blind thing sled no further into parabellum
As if the antebellum had won again.
And Sherman’s March meant nothing.

Why living in NC?
When Bethelem is the cross of holy-virtue.
Then, only, then.
The Sourjourner’s Moon.
And Ash + Mose seemed like a dialect.
The-dark.dimension:

Figuring in case files and my night time self
Doesn’t get much break.
X-games life and the cryptids I bless are the turds in the toilet
The lepers digest.

Builimic fool and I told you we were once exorcists!
Still a sicario and ninja-on-sight.
Time parabellum and I choose Paradox.
No Fear in Pandora’s Box and I released the Monsters
To see how hard the monsters walk.
You’ve been through hell and you still see it.
Repent and I cross intuit.
Right and Left and no accord.
Hide ambidextrously and suddenly I’m found.
Back door of Heaven’s Gate.
And the darkest corner of the room.
Is where the sun-shines.

Pashalbaoma.mm.lj.