terminus

so terminus, you change minds all the time, liken most deays to cold winds but it can all be okay, you used to say such precious things and i recall arid days watching people behind you scribbling notes down to things you said (how you used to make it all so dreary-glad) and that made sense somehow.

but stronger, just like ghosts in stalin-air nights you turned black old pages into bible-belt praises found stars to be falling all the time, and you were, you were aprt of the reason. i remember it pretty well.

oh, terminus, how'd you end up so drunk and waiting? and what on?

so if any of it was better, no one told us and we just walked, just walked away and ate sad sandwiches in the rain, it happened like that, just like that, you were there and i can speak it just so now, but then, oh then terminus, it was so easy to let someone down or say it like you meant it and it would always be better than we thought of it, right? that was the way we built it up and turned it down, refreshing hours look like acrid drawings on a pale page and i saw you draw it while you slept (at least were empty-eyed) and now you're just there, waiting in a push-chair for the nurse to bring you back (one more lost soul in the heirarch, headache.)

2004-01-08 | 7:57 p.m.
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