A small space dedicated to the unsatisfactory imitation and substitute. A shield, a cover, camouflage, streetlights, bent knees and bloody fingers, billboards and pills. The degradation of eyesight and fallible understanding of concrete.
Water on the wings of a moth near the flame and, you, only, come closer.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
obsessions
Every so often the dim of night shrouds my window pains, and the din of passing traffic slows to a halt, and the seeping of velvet fog violin strings pass through my walls, playing far, far away, with you, on the bright side, my friend
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