uncle mountain
Here, I feel like a fire theft song drenched and limber unaroused by the strongest smells and sights just peddling onwards and into the sky and into the sea and into the mist and muck (little or much) true depth awaits and turning you over lifted out from wreckage days and lives that don�t mean anything or go anywhere, just sit and sift through days like diseases and card games where anything and everything we want or need is waiting on our legs to move.
2004-10-22 | 11:04 a.m.
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