lord, make like most things and take them all

found a stale smell, drowsy this morning comes from late night hollow- listening to songs that mean something else to someone else and taking them all apart: beauty renders small vicotry or you'll be dust and bone-like memory churns over and sleeping is not the same sometimes sun shines and waking up is just another day comes, past. care ride (car ride, care-flight) finds fare whether and fair weather, armaments for your justice calls or maybe mine (i guess i am the only one calling out) mornings make like so much scotch and soda and float my head. most things float my head these days.

2004-05-25 | 8:59 p.m.
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