london is dreary

"she'll come back, london is dreary" someone said, and i'm listening to sweet novemeber and wondering what she's thinking about and where she was. sometimes people dream in soft light, with angels across their faces and eyes and sometimes, best when it rains, i wonder if she's sitting on her porch, in her underwear, and watching it fall, how i thought about being (celestial park) int he rain and watching her cross the cool, wet grass and closing her eyes between swallowing me and i wonder, where it all hides and there's no truth but this no truth but this no truth but this.

2003-08-04 | 9:54 p.m.
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