4/08/2007

this time

A wind is blowing through the back door and it’s colder than I thought it would be. The engine jumped its hold and the elderly man is running up a hill in Minnesota.

When the rocket takes off, will anyone hear it land. And if it doesn’t, someone has to hear the air ripping. It’s like wiping up blood with one arm slinged.

I can’t find her. I don’t think I’m even looking anymore. There’s a priest, but I’m not sure if I believe in hell. It’s all a matter of perspective if you look at it that way. And only if you care about forgiveness.

There’s beeping and it won’t stop. The ringing is in my right ear only. It makes me sick.

Who are you?
Is there something you want?

Etichette:

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