Like clock work, they slide out of his hand. Shearing through the air is the passed. Slicing like silver bullets... no, silver darts through slices of paper. Severing the ties between two equals with ease. One, Two, Three he threw, more on their heels. The air began to churn in uproar, the essence of smoke tickled their sense's, and the smoke itself, danced in the slicing air. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, faster and faster he threw, aiming to mame, to dismember, to destroy. His hands gingerly repeating the motion, making it quite clear he was no stranger to the actions at hand. Nothing could break his concentration, not the ripple of time as is brushed past them all, or the sheirk of the air as it cried out in pain, as it was being murdered alive, slaughtered, like animals on old mc's farm. He finished his assault, and disarmed himself, picking up another weapon of choice. Rolling it between his fingers, he waited in patience, as he stared down the competition. Fourty, Fifty, the pot began to grow, he tossed in his chips, and they began to play.

Poker at its finest.

NOT... Can't Write Today!

The harmonic noise tickled his tounge, as the tastes of the sky he saw, nothing could stop him for he was immortal, until he discovered his fault. Nothing can last without heaven's wings, and without those he know's he must, discover a new way of life as we know it, a way of discovering one-self....

what...?


Let the fingers do the thinking and this is what you get.

Random Thought of The Day:

asdfjkl; Home Keys...