Friday, February 04, 2005
Part the first
Off from splintering wishes comes the pain that it won't return. Found amid the oil stain'd water mildew willow leaves steeping gray. Head down as always and only half a mind for sight, I'm rushing against conclusions i must face. Narrow against the falsehoods the rain begins to break. Off a few minutes It's coming into view, cold and cubist against cyclone suburban skys. In measures I'm holding on but there are no songs today.