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March 8, 2013
The siphoning secret we sire collects the uncollectables of heart to heart, bleeds the black ardor, seals the souls bound together on a landscape that's ours, solemn and sacred, a world we might feel as we feel in the deepest of touches, widest of embraces, feverish kisses tonguing the blood of light flowing like Niagara from skin to skin, eye to eye, blinding the mind to fears that have no purchase; such as it is, we seek this place, indistinct, lacking earmarks of maps on the map designating how we find that which cannot be found but given by Grace.