Storm Center

You've captured my imagination, charasmatic mess, in the wake of your =

devestation, I'm your best work yet. Fascinating back drop of romantic =

poverty, obsessed with herbs and healing cures, obsessed with healing =

me! But you're the one that's dying, a sudden downpour fading fast, =

rapidly unwinding to a bitter draft. Around your high poetic brow, =

around your pleasant neck, a veil of grandiosity competes with epithets. =

You're better off relying on meteorology than to keep on justifying why =

you impose on me. Your path of mass destruction will blow right by me =

now, you dissipate your energy you cannot knock me down.