Wednesday, January 9, 2013

From Words I Write

“From the ash of inception, our seeds accrete, destined to dance on strings of mothermemory, echoing in a timbre heard by we alone. Those are the strings that stretch to make space for consciousness to burst forth as the spawn desire built; those are the echoes of time you see through the doors."

~ a boy 

“Under darker matter far, the Wreekers see right where you are.  In the night, they steel you tight, your memories be the tongue they bite.” 

~ a girl 


No comments:

Post a Comment