Friday, 28 October 2011

endloss sleep on the turbid waters neath clouded moon

fragile baby dreaming with little clenches as the dreams ripple through from neverwhere into the physical plane of now.   Ripples echo the halls and river caverns and the roots of the trees soak up the tiny threads of life.  winds restless and growing push in and swirl around and the colours of the street outside tremour with the mottled sun.  satan in inside with me and waits by the window smoking a cigar and drinking cheap cognac.  The smoke curls up and tugs at the blind before being snatched out the window into the glassless boundary.  the wall is a little white and tape appears at the edges where draughts taper into the permanent matt finish of melbourne, of melbourne, of melbourne, of melbourne, of melbourne, of melbourne, of melbourne.  living la vida loca
joi de vie

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