2003-10-24 - p.m.
and like i was some kind of wax coating i melt off and drip to the beat
flickering and smoke the cigarette till the filter is ash in my finger tips with which i once used to draw a pristine sky in shades of gray
something i would imagine everyday being so constant and my actual eyes see nothing but this act of contrition factual and there is no where for my "art" to displace these scribbles because neither way i face now
.trip. - .fall. - .bounce. - .ashes ashes . - .we all. - .fall down.
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Don't Make Me Hug Myself, I'll Do It!
*HUGS* TOTAL!
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............................................................................................I trail off in one sentence out of five
..........................................................................and the rest of the time I just.....
.......................................................................................................................mumble...............................................
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