like quakers in the ash

Two hundred stories you tell, wasted there and then on salt or rotten meat you can save yourself but only so long as dust scrapes up and we�re all forcved to relocate to hot dry climates or temperate zones without fear of error or soon losing our thoughts of justice and trading them out for fierce blanket with which to wrap our children locked safe or built palaces for the blind we move easy through gardens and you could lie a deaf man sight so reaches arms out and puts them around me but oh how I tend to think tend to send a few thoughts out put a few unanswered questions down to page and leave them untended so that theiu arms like branch-fingers can cross our desert with just as little only as much quiet as casualties we spend hours on the phone linked up online or climbing out of dark hell holes and bending over trying to reach the smoke that droipped the galss that�s empty the tear that fell and so now, drunk , heartless trading in soulshine for moonshine we drop cauterized eyeds and leave them here for you to love on: you give precious love and damn, sweet girl you take the pain from brutal deaths.

2003-12-31 | 12:54 p.m.
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