Friday, February 20, 2009

All the words already left for the coast already gone as much as I realized the sounds I believed I was collecting were offered up by a machine called IPOD GENIUS, a major disappointment as I felt my taste was coming into it's own just as my body was becoming stranger as I plied myself in every direction possible through a series of interdimensional poses the one directing said exercizes betraying every semblance of growing old as I discover that the woman tree house dog max chicken coop trailer shed sandbox buried yellow egg dead chase dog car Josie sweet orange ocotillo flower forgive me now that you see me as I've become and I see you haven't grown old at all but rather hair still bright red as the cars rush by, by your hand
someday I will marry the man I was meant to be.

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