October 16, 2005

slipping and stretching on strands of stars,
tumbling through torrents of
awkward gazes, gathering sanity in the easter baskets.
Sit back and relax, let it out, keep it in, get up and move.
That phone never rang,
that mouth never talked,
that music never played,
that night never happened.
She made the decision to make everything wrong and
wrong it was to be right in every sense,
since it was nothing to be anything, and everything to be something.
A thing, one thing, more things, something.
piling up in a laundry basket, these words must be aired, the are musty.
a masterful representation of the repition that represents the mind on a temporary rest.
tepid thinking,
tranquil talkking.
rip rocking rustling leaves leave her on the porch alone.
Lost.

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