quasi_sean

one hope for the last of her dreams.

Is the moon disgusted enough w/what happens on her watch?

I've spent the hrs. watching boxes, jerking off to imaginary problems, cutting photographs from the page after page of inspiration. I'm cutting gardens to paste on the ceiling.

She hangs over me, her eyes rolling circles in the shadows of blue.

i see
your kneecaps
are dancing
have minds of their own
beneath your jeans.

I can't sleep for fear of the night-watch. The death countdown to cremation. There are twelve sides to the scenerio--jotting notes down is a pleasure.

and we broke promises, spent afternoons on the balcony, got high in the castle towers, set fires to the wind and left footprints on the carpet and baby powder in our shoes--the weekend nites were ours for the taking. the sprinklers sent us running for the graffiti tunnels near the woods.

i shall remember you always--inhaling thru the spurts of laughter and the blood running from your nose.