Saturday 3/11/2006 11:30:00 PM

Your angry angel, her wings beat my tongue. So much wind. So much movement. To go nowhere.

Her halo. How soft it glowed. In this darkness. Life happening in spite of death. Arrow everpresent to counterbalance. To justify happiness.

because that's what it is. Reference. Opposites. All truths derived from the lies we've discovered.

There's no taste to this medicine anymore. What once was bitter, now is just water on my tongue. There's no rhythm to this pain. Just deaf stutters as the footprints make their stale impressions.

We go there. Take those tours.

But it's not where we live.


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