Friday 1/05/2007 12:35:00 AM

There were toadstools in his cardigan. Little mushroom caps blotting away from his skin. There was life to tell what we could have. And touch to tease of things we never would.

With a confident nod it turned the price upside down. Spilling all the liquid. The fortunate lies. Tied to the sediment. Rusty pitchforks in search of a savior. As though truth were a swipe of lipstick across hungry lips. And these callous epiphanies were a gown waiting to be fitted. Overcome by the path from then to now.

2 comments:
Nothingman said...

We don't understand mush of this post but the fact that you drink and write will surely make us come back and read more...I hope it is ok with you if we link you in our blog :)
CHEERS;)
N

Travis Jay Morgan said...

whoa.



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