Monday 12 January 2009

"shiny metallic purple armour"

my god what have i done? a somber cataclysm is the missing passionate elevation,wasted into the years, a reading into the system of a most delicious decision. a caricature of inspiration wastes away on what i sometimes perceive as the edge,but in reality I'm just trying to punch harder. punch through the intended object,shifting the sags of fat and amber lust wiggles in the stained glass. a time machine exists in stolen moments. associations with chem trails and a phone call to an old mentor,lost and dethroned. i wander out into it alone. the molten lava covered platforms slam into the ceiling as i roll from one to another.
grass is always greener on the other side. pardon my war torn lips and obsession with silliness. children offer lessons that trace back to youthful wasteful decadence.
sorry for the lost years and the spineless anger,the twist of needing a wizard in my rat hole. cold and tasteless shudders,the lack of a reasoned explanation or a sensed pattern is not an excuse for anything.

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