07.23.2004 | 1:37 a.m.
he wears bukowski cologne. she shrugs and whispers I REMEMBER in her sleep. emotions are contradictary fruit can labels... peaches and cream. bananna melt down.
fruit to the juice. PUNCH! there went the master copy. edit. fluctuate. re-tag. disassemble. words of my youth and for the decade, now my future stands 6 feet tall and an inch or two with hair that could talk to god. strike the voice, killer substance! yield a mummifying substance. .. tastes like pine-sol and licorice. and then i sparked up a conversation with a pink hatted woman and we danced under the sun but now my cheeks are red. |