Tilt Storm Center
You've captured my imagination, charasmatic mess, in the wake of your = devestation, I'm your best work yet. Fascinating back drop of romantic = poverty, obsessed with herbs and healing cures, obsessed with healing = me! But you're the one that's dying, a sudden downpour fading fast, = rapidly unwinding to a bitter draft. Around your high poetic brow, = around your pleasant neck, a veil of grandiosity competes with epithets. = You're better off relying on meteorology than to keep on justifying why = you impose on me. Your path of mass destruction will blow right by me = now, you dissipate your energy you cannot knock me down. Submitted by: Mel
