severed, how uncivilized, this
we, not that shall it not, speak through
all valves you continue to maroon
in timely just becauses. intimidating
storm, bluff called, as every in such ever
heads bob clanking to rhythms set
to the motion of films blanketing
thoughts to sleep. these clues left none
such spaces to conundrum itself into
molotovs to spark arguments for myself
to identify. every corner, is a canvas
i interpreted as sounds left uncarved
for the passing year.
December 06, 2009, 11:31pm
