My friends. I have returned to the ranks of the inter-web-net-izens.

yeah, i got a computer. Laptop. Nice one too.

named it Cypher.

Anyways, will be around, you know the usual channels to get a hold of me.

Peace.

Wolfie.

Its raining.

Its raining a lot.

torrential comes to mind.

I used to love the rain.

The cold rain , the warm, the drizzle, the big fat droplets that slash back up at you.

Good downward rain, and rain that comes at you from the side.

Rain used to be my love, my life, my home.

Now...its just rain.

A thing, just a name.

But when you are in the rain.

No one can see the tears.

The Scythe bring the Harvest.
Slingblade.
Reaperman.
Another Black Rose Born.

Angels spiral, scream and fall first.
But I'm still here.

Watch as the greed webs and spins into form.
The Form of One.

Edward smile. then Death rains.
A Black Rose Born.

Why fucking me?

Note too self.

NEVER write poetry when you are unsure of your heart.

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

--William Butler Yeats

The Heat.

Smoke in the woods.

Unreadable.

Grip the fog to determine its contents.

A Creature stirs within.

Bear?

Wolf?

Man?

The Heat.

Something devours itself.