a page of quotes

This is the marker of pastimes
traveled roads not yet undone, we rework the movable parts in our mind
I am getting at certainty and how, by logic
a bed frame grows cold and weary
still, the eyes upon it cannot rest
days will be needed before a real change can come about
this is the way of merchants and magicians: claustrophobia
(an orange light comes from everything)
and this page, spilled upon by idiots (mostly me)
will drown out more than one form of laughter with rage.
anyone could tell you this, but I will:
there is nothing but changing leaves and seasons.
the real life is perpetually four days away.

2004-10-22 | 11:03 a.m.
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