Sigil: City of Doors

Why then does pony need death and desapir when love is so ever dancing?
-Just a random message to his fellas from Jiro.

((And so that our forum dont look that empty :P

The Boo Grinders!



We drank French tea through black wires

and the nellys smelt spank.

I squared a glance at the fish master,

He was indeed a curious queer!

Though IÂ’d never seen a queerer, queer than the queer, queer.

Have youÂ…?

I rebuked, French tea and queer, queers!

For all around was grinding of nellyÂ’s teeth.

Spanking stopped! Immediately!

The fish master had booed the queers, the queer, queers and the nellys!

These fish folk were bad enough but a master, was all moustache.

IÂ’d fathomed the discipline of moustache growling in fishes,

but it ached my ass.



The nellys grinding stopped and spanking resumed,

but my shock and horrorÂ…

realising the master and the queers smelt spank also!

ItÂ’s been a spanks breadth in monkey fingers

Since a queer spanked a fish!

But an armpit full of nellyÂ’s cocks since a master spanked a queer!



If boo grinding was spank smelling,

weÂ’d all smell pretty good!

I think that nellys ruin spank,

by giving it to queers.



Emergent death came from the rear,

death showers of nipple rocks with gas fangs!

Sticky mustards were our only hope,

If only we could find them?

But as they didnÂ’t exist we just said we had them,

so the nipples went away.

It worked!

So the nellys smelt spank,

and the fish master and I decided to drink German tea through red wires,

to avoid the penance of God,

but that is a grim story, not air nor hair

and should be saved for times when eyelashes had lips.

Tattooed To Infinity

Through the gift of petulant breeze swam the fifty sacrosanct virgins
Ever twisting, ever twining within the dank confines of the illuminated husk
They bent, they twirled, never touching and never knowing
They were not alone

Alone in the darkness, the fantastic sprinting fledgling ran blindly through the trees
SMACK Into the onion patch dropped the latent brow
The hollow wrenching
The genuine delight of the unknowable instrument of love

Have we drifted so far from the center?
When did we last carress the bittersweet nuance of our dream?
Did we find each other yesterday
Or was it six weeks from last fortnight?

Why can't we remember our best suit?
Finch.