Sunday, 11 December 2011

god takes care of old people and fools, the devil takes care of all the rules

the summer chills take hold in the uncertain lights and the houses all tucked warm and well swept shine monotonously from their roots to their pretty eaves.  My hands are folded and stretched and the empty streets by night that i ply know my name by this or that letter and a gesture of limitless life.  Silence and noise are my only friends and each takes a turn at holding me down while the other runs for water and to just fly across the streets in fitzroy.  Look away to your window where the outside world is hushed even in its cacophony, where the greens lead to grey and to the lost colours that hide behind the shadows and tangle with the other lives that ponder past unperturbed by a lossless train of thought that bypassess every station and never dries your pens or inks untill it's carriages part before a widening sun that consumes it and all your thoughts and the infinity is washed with the beginning of a new chapter, shapely like the last and only earmarked by the slight chance, the same that rules all of this.  World

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