Saturday, July 10, 2004

all my troubles a-weigh. we debate equality of colours, seems like a reference point. we are handed a paper. it's a poem, a residual rock from that place. well, it's a try. we see extra colours and need. our passive excellence needs expression. the aliens aren't here to love us, or pat our backs. they need to steam us for the future, where we can really explode. are you future-minded enough? regardez-la. today's rather cool, a possible gesture plied by condition. why don't we work the room for a more or less diminishment? nothing really gets lost, except the occasional angel hightailing it from Baghdad. let yourself go, as well. we needn't meet until the blinding light tells us so, or at least let that story hang around. this is the choice of pattern, mocking us again...

Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?