BootShopStory

A kind of lambent darkness filled the dell, the mirror's a bat, the mirror's a bat, the mirror in it's device, & tool on it's earthly plain, as a device, the mirror's a bat, sky-proof, the methodical drip, drip, drip, to the floor of needles, the branch- captured rain, reflected daylight filtered through the start of the heaviest storm, daylight filtered through into the clearing, between the clearing & the path, between the clearing & the path, in it's device & tool on this earthly plain, as a device, the mirror's a bat.

By the horrifying & tragic minutes, as to expel all other fears, through long training, & irritable mutters, contortion, the finer points of ritual, left open to make way for an exit, know of course in a critical state of health, so nameless becomes all violent alarm, are the so-called never responsibilities, by tragic minutes & the horrifying, as to expel all other fears, desire to establish in any of the numerous suites of rooms, on the way to the dinning hall the dark breakfast.

We won't see another planet destroyed in her case of invading bone, beginning, maybe it's eating within it's a good look acclimated & acclaimed, to move on to something from within, & wonder what we think left alone, a tour to encounter & follow as it originally appeared, the decade of monsters painting upon the stolen as they believe, the clearing into the ocean, then follow me, beginning, we won't see another planet destroyed beginning, in her case of invading bone acclimated & acclaimed.

The plan of an idea, to those both near & far, to the listening event, a nexus endangered by a subconscious tranquility in exo-skeleton to the broadcasting invasion, the faithful malignant business on a minute, to those both near & far, the mind beginning to go to get the nerves to believe the earth invaded or coming to be brought back together, to those both near & far, the plan of an idea, & there the cannibal eating, eating, from within this escape, the odd considering unnatural nerves the mind beginning, to the listening event, the best in broadcasting, business & news returned again, the malignant bone & earth invaded gone.

The end a burnt tree, the opening to a key as the Hall burnt away, burnt away in sleep as the Sun moved on, the wreck of sunlight burnt away the sound, the sound of burning rose from that silent wreck, & a vampires coffin, a flower quiet seeming to pull at the eye & spirit to a different key & ring, & the wind pulled at a spider on a rose, so many white clouds as though no one were awake, & then the rose with a nest of worms roiling in the dirt, & no spider left & just a petal at it's dust, & that a worm come to understand.

Location, the emphasis clearly by the rose of discovery & critical decisions, already complex, in class particular, discover the vulnerable charms, a matter of priorities, a different star-ship, following the inspection of the examination of location, the luxury of a table for the administration of stars building, building a complex class in particular.

The wreath two red point off the head of the statue dead, with wings a planet's song dead from this & burning leaves of the winters mouth, the Devil brave & stern, without rue to rule & then to stay, The red points then to red stars in the sky, one for Fantasy & the other for Reality, to it's crooked blue & black crypt the Devil's hands then raised to the absurd, & this a black market abused & weird, with the rain about to wash it away, but instead the snow, just frozen the land, & the sky falling to greet the land & this Devil King.

Through the math of Death, a wish, & should two wishes make two teeth to wish with, then Death then is stolen, & with this no master to be found at all, to grass & glass it's better to grow this way, as the the teeth two know no better, Death the dot then wishing of another word, though the tree burn with them, stars & sky, the dead looking on with them, the victim breathing, a vampire weeping, the mask the math of Death, a shroud out of wish, the wreath red & green upon Death the sitting King, Merry Christmas.

The tree of blood & white leaf, would come through the organ, white & black tinsel, the golden wall disappearing, the last thought one remembering could be the second before never seeing the t.v., to seeing the tree of blood & white leaf, the mud black pearl, a bone would murmur the softest leaf, & there the tree, the tree of blood & white leaf.

You'll be your own golden feather when the 13 black squares become their own jailer, as you are yours & I am mine, until it find a better keeper, no clock loose to a black tick tock or tread, to move a mountain sure, while the dragon waits inside it's head, & you & I with one joke to share of tell a friend, what's to mystify a dragon, before the skeleton clock, with reaper's dime, with one joke for you & I, the black squares become the prison, & the dragon hides in it's lair.