Her Kiss, The Killing Floor

Agape

loose lipped lullabies

oh the things we take to our graves

sunbathing

There comes a time in every man’s life when the rot
sets in. Teleological design seems not unknowable, but gone entirely.
When the towers of faith fall. When unbelief is all there is. When
that duppy, transcendent, ineffable knowledge of The-Thing-Divine is all that went untouched by heaven scorned. When the silence of
God is deafening, and when there is no longer a thirst to know him.
When Christ did not leave the tomb. These are the faithful dead.

A Philosophy of Redemption

Georgia

Last Feast Of Harlequin

Cattle

The Man In The Study

The Singer Sung

is writing unaddressed letters in song form

sunbathing

hereonplanetmars

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