And touch the stubble plains with velvet hue, until the soul is filled with deep contentment

Under ambrose pale that has painted the leaves upon the ground, the long shadows of early September and the last remnants of cerulean blue Summer, I have mastered the art of getting by my determination raging in every drop of my blood and snakeskin. Mercurial and wayward is lust, that has discovered its way deep … Continue reading And touch the stubble plains with velvet hue, until the soul is filled with deep contentment