collapse-able

one walk, arms along for the ride, a motion in the hips of imaginary sideways trembles (or are they?) tend leaning inwards we get everything in counted breaths every passing day and second (warp speed, mr. zulu) and a tragicomedy kicks in like things said things heard and things thought about (there are so many) and being there just being there just being there

and so life like a bobble head doll, bounce in and out of streamways, this talk, those words passagews exchanged a certain kind of silence in the miracle hour television hour true stories for teens in trouble we see everything in changing colors no more like black and white age-old cinema with maps unmade and staff writers in motel rooms a bottle of wine a bottle of ritalin (shoots msiles over the moon) wants to get needs to get one just hands touch two just fingers around each other with just this much and holding the banister of something more- a story told and written daily once more once more in the breach, dear friends...collapse-able.

2004-07-07 | 10:47 p.m.
0 comments so far