I pocket thoughts
Like popping candy
And I am astonished I still stand here
In some sort of lamentable haze
Strumming unpaletable songs
And trying to swallow verification

I can't turn around
And be rid of my cloak
Rushing from corner to corner
Feeding lucidness to the wolves
Taking from every tasty dish enough to last a day

Clearly, something must be done

06/19/2002

Posted on 06/17/2002
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