Acroama

I look too handsome for my books And scare my common friends with looks. The lover stunned by obvious goods  Will soon be lost in darker woods. The gaze that’s quick and can’t contain — The “care” drones on, I wish it gone. The traveler quits before the end And leaves me waiting at the bend Of rarely found gardens of good — Fated fruits misunderstood. Though kind and silent I will stay, “Please go with me,” I think to say. Seldom tasted best of all — The place where God and children call. I sit alone in company  With only me who waits to see. While in this quiet sacred grove I pluck a treasured yellowed rose; I smell the fragrance oh so sweet, Remove the shoes from off my feet. Wash in waters clean and clear, The gentle flow is all I hear. Though none but me awaits me here — I feel no doubt, no shame, no fear. For good remains the garden grove  For anyone to come behold.

[Picture of Earth taken during Storm season] After separating the mothers from their IC children, General Martin Rocha confined the IC’s and strapped them to the floor. The general conducted a series of experiments in an attempt to identify weaknesses and vulnerabilities in an IC.  General Rocha has confirmed that he not only oversaw, but became personally involved in the IC experiments. The following is an excerpt from a detailed anonymous report of the IC’s torture. Though these reports seemed to be originally meant for objective scientific observation, the writer trends gradually towards sensationalist morbidity. The records appear to be a single doctor's personal recollections from these daily experiments. The following passage was selected to convey the bizarrely sadistic nature of the experiments. — Editing Team ANONYMOUS: SCIENTIFIC OBSERVATION RECORD: Their delicious scaly skin is perfectly exposed now from having successfully removed their feathers and fur.  When we realiz

Play this song softly with headphones while you read:  "Jacob and the Stone" by Emile Mosseri Tom lays quietly in his hospital bed. The cataracts took his sight completely over the last month or so. His stomach no longer accepts any water or food. His skin is frail as paper and his bones are light as air.  You’d think at a time like this Tom would be thinking about his adventurous past, or lost in the fears or hopes of his unknown future. And though Tom’s gut may have given up trying to get him to eat by now, it hadn’t quit giving him advice, and it says to him that he can’t venture too far in either direction or he may never come back.  Tom was blissfully lost in the now. Tom had been wandering here for a while now. You see, losing his sight opened up a whole new world to him. A world where sounds, smells and touch filled the void of his sight. For the past minute Tom has been listening to the shuffle of the sheets getting tucked around him. In the quiet of the room, there i