Saturday Jan 01, 2005

0
under a pile of sofa cushions

fat full for the love of the spirited stuff

so I take a soul review pop quiz in a conveniance store

the close proximity far away farmers' face

fuck i got to get out of here

back forth through the door

it swings but never closes

coming to the end

stop bang I am calling the local radio dj by his birthname

more poetry words recorded remastered mixed into a new single

simitaneously calls are coming in

what began as a monologue

turns into a soap opera

I come clean through projected misery

nothings left on tape but scratches and some paper I balled up and crammed into its crevice.

somehow that allows me to overdub

angels feeding on the slick tastey kernels of corn

"I am hurting.... you cant believe.... everything... that you say ..

in your dreams... you left me.... standing... outside.. the convieniance store... in my mind...."

"So I try... one morning .... to return. to the place.. but its changed

VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
shanana:
Things always change, they are never the way you left them. But then again, we have to look and see for ourselfs.

You are right, we are alike. smile
suiclide:
i will be home soon enough for that beer and i will tell you anything you want......

but for the most part, everything that you see on the news that is happening in or around baghdad........your looking at my area

god damn car bombs gotta watch out for those

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