two hundred days

photobook tells story, letterbox was better, you know, i'll only write as long as pages allow and then crisp silence grows cold you like trembles ever-on and better still is happy shouldn't come everything i'm so ------ with light fingers writes ten thousand words easier than dust
love and dust is not so bad. good to know. soon we'll see as man/woman blind but eyes open now careful slow but watching.

2003-12-09 | 12:58 p.m.
0 comments so far