Host

At the gray bottom sunk around by silk and smoothed out over the oldest ebony It lives in you. Or the other way around. This abiding interest in how that which is eaten is eaten You like breathing? Then keep eating. Love, Lust, God, End. Debatable points all. Sitting at the head of a table pre and post fall where if this is where you sat you would be primed to eat all kinds of meat, sweet meat and the gloom of days and nights that are exactly the same: brimming over with success and expecting no less it's creature comfort for creatures who comfort and worry robes, shapes, shadows, clocks and casino politics that whisper: surrender. Surrender. Because it feels good to do just this a ring, a kiss Just this --- Host - Oxbow