written in the mud

luna earth morning, spoken in the broken lip-speak of a tired man, a bottle rests empty on the desk and tap tapping is clicking away with kalamazoo stars above and everything somehow is eclipsing me just now (i'm thinking about solar flares) and wondering if your eyes are shut and dreams are coming to you yet.

if so, what color are they and who painted them?

2004-02-18 | 10:46 p.m.
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