I won't,
I won't comply to this one,
Bent into shapes and shinings
I can't, I can't improve
On the sun
Driving into black eyes and holes in whispers
Then again, what's the difference
Between cutting and killing and creating?
And the dancesteps are meaningless
But they spill out anyways
Sleep comes and it's meaningless and full of
Patches and drifts and pulls
Without wholeness, without
Without giraffes!
Patterns in dream sequences
I'm a genius at
Green red yellow and
Lazy Sunday afternoons.
So run away
We're cutting and killing and creating
From the fingertips of God.
Improv
- January 13, 2008
- zebraprint
- No Comments
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