How pretty the wings that never fly.
Your own happiness comes at the laps of one...two...three...big clock and snap dragon run.
Fire walker and mirror dragged rumple bum. Driggle drag and far gone subtle rum.
It is only the Lull I like
The sound of your valved voice.
gone to green, a small scene.
delicate like pretty things
silicone and plastic rings
PBR gone wrong
someone learn a different tune
Isaac Call Soon.
Isaac Call Now.
I'll never call you tomorrow
You'll never hear me soon.
1 comment:
i do think its time for another bourbon, for there is a continual ammendment to the corralation of combustibal idea or conciousness that constitutes my personal perception.
its the idea; and the connection between each idea.
ponder and form them, for there is a process. and always the possible connection.
progressive creation.
infinite equation.
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