Friday, April 07, 2006


We drive away and forget things. We break bones for knives and cower from falling stars. We steal breath from birth and hope for the best. We do all these things and for what?

A moment of peace. A moment's notice. A memory of scars and material issues. I can't help but bleed for what never was. What might have been. Gone, gone, gone. Gesundheit.

Fear is not the enemy, a reaper; brave and sure. Fight past the deathly smell and wait for freedom's cure. What right to live like this have I? What heroin gone sour! I cursed him.

And to this end, it's all possessed: not funny anymore. I've lost the best and shaved the rest, of this much I am sure.

When Hitler comes, I'll be on the can with Jesus, waiting in the van. Siobhan knows better but won't admit; it takes a lot to give a shit. And I should know. I should know better.

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