Spyker-Spider-Storm

What is it you want from me- to dance in a pretty dress? to fight with a vicious smile? to talk, to laugh, to smile, to sing... I'm sorry, just like a spinning top I can't perform all sides at once- if that is what you want, then, by all means go for one of those other dolls- with better colour with better bodies who love to be kissed, petted and protected I will carry on spinning my own dance that stutters and falters, with broken body, and faltered will, but does not stop, ignore me, and will end, when it ends, no sooner or later. And if time, what we have left, is your concern- then you can count the seconds as they slip b

Smell the cloves, the aniseed Star Annis! The spiralling smoke, see the dragon chase the wind, leaving cider smells behind, In the temples Gold Buddhas reach the sky, Monks offer their prayers, and burn their offerings Mryr or Frankincense are left behind leaving smell on skin See the Glow reflect in eyes of a thousand woods from roofs and chimneys turbulent winds scatter- Gray smoke-blow to- turbulent waves foaming white, nothing but scents remain.