xanthan gum

Prolouge Aloysius felt the cold condensation on the sides of his water can. He sipped the water, his tongue slowly playing circles around the spout. Then, noticing the water was ...

Hello, blonde dreary-eyed angel Satire on your cherub features, I can laugh your fears away Your brow, so smooth and seamless, Hold together my childhood God When he had long ...

A moon in my azure sky is a pinpoint for the mystique it still has after all these long years colors never fade with age, but sanctuaries crumble - history ...

I greatly enjoyed the images. In fact, they kept me enrapt in the poem. The first stanza was my favorite. Down, down, down you take it Bold move, but it ...

Ha ha ha. This was a sour start. Your anger fed the poetry well, but I think you lingered on this far too long and basically repeated yourself over and ...

Cold, distanced, unfeeling, and strong; This is what you are. Happy, close, nice, and wise; This is what you are not. This list of adjetives is overworn, repetitive and annoying. ...

The second Prolouge or..something Anything that, in happening, causes itself to happen, happens again. --Douglas Adams The man’s breath preceded him around the corner, and when he followed it was ...

Biting your bloody lip, You tell me all your secrets What he’s done these past few days Time at rug-burn paces, You topple off of your ceiling fan Falling gracefully ...

This bloodline is full of strong women Figurines ice cold against the raging storm Of emotional men, the backs on red hands Flung against faces, They are not porcelain, but ...

The better parts: as I scrawl poetry into empty notebooks (they remain empty) and this apathy welling up inside me is the measure of mere inches between the tip of ...

Genocide. I believe a man preached to a group of people to drink poisoned kool aid. i'm not sure, though.

Raise requiem A body burns tonight Exult your praises to the Elixir of excuses On this closed-door room Stained glasses and stained vision We’re spotless on the casket, Pristine, the ...

Well, first of all, this was very good. I don't know if it was very YOU though - as I know you, this sounded a bit forced from your personality. ...

against the wall of lost men and across the floor of broken women. This seems unfinished, almost as if you were starting an idea here and never completed the point. ...

This was a unique style of poetry - I don't nessasarily like the format for this poem, but it works out. Just barely, though. I think this poem would be ...