
Welcome To My Journal...
My rotten limbs seem tp grow into new territory. The dead find comfort in my most unworthy arms of decay. They gather, sick children, whom crave the diease to mingle in their only too forgiving skins. All too familiar, for the familiar to see. All to forgiven, for the unforgiven tp met. Far too human for even tp grasp. My deadleaf limbs will gather unto me, make them as unhuman as I have become. They will be my dead children, and we will become unto the dying sun.