no reason why really, not that i could figure out myself anyway

2003-02-03, 10:31 p.m.

fantastically well, in the state of being where, regardless of the pointed meaning behind things, i am flowing. it could be so easy to worry, to catch onto a problem, suckle away on its misery, and dark gray clouds.

it could do wonders for complection if i would just gather up the stray strings into a ball, wear it as a mask of sorrow. this would not last, not with my head waving to the beat of upbeat abstract prose. your isolation booths crack at the seams, with a scent of humanity accelerating the memory recollection in your fragile mind.

every moment is.

let the arrow fly without the aid of muscle, and let the arrow have your lost dreams, like broken cars.