bugler

and at the end we'll be laughing long belly laughs, all the aches are melting past and i can see, i can scrape by a few more times a few more days ---this once thunder and shudder--- loosens like grips on necks and we are battered in our own way, we are lost in some dark tragicomedy script (what fool writes this all out, how does it end?) and hurrying, no one gets what they want, no one gets what they need (let's hope our failed attempts count for something) or one day we'll all be dust and slightest gust will scatter us across the earth

2004-05-09 | 8:00 a.m.
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