Something close to now. Or maybe later. The time on his wrist fibrillating. Wide and assuming x is constant. The end. The truth in fits of vomit. The future names its price. The past negotiates. No one buys either one.
I was so young then. And now I'm not. I was everything. And now I'm nothing.
His eyes counting the minutes between pussy and friend. Different doses for different addictions. Maybe time isn't as smart as I thought it was.
We're always fooling it. Into thinking it owes us more.
Fire escapes on the back of her neck. Where the words argue with the their saviors. What to save. And when. Now. or Then?
Or isn't all the same.
Skimming the surface of heaven. Collecting my demons in broken math. The eternal paradox. I can go there. But if i do, I can never go back.
The time lines of lonely men answer enough.
Sunday
8/17/2008 12:13:00 AM
Sad Labels:
dark art
,
hyperbole
,
philosophy
,
quantum
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