** time is passing
I have spent All Day watching it pass once again.
I have counted the seconds.
they have been blue i wanna
i am not manifest how do i get manifest i am not visible how do i get visible i have been working too long too long too long without result without impetus i am dreaming dreaming on my way toward the east on my way toward the next one on my way toward the great lake where the deformed seagulls sleep i wanna i wanna live but i wanna i wanna breathe no alienation none can take the ticket none can take the place i am sleeping on my way i am screaming on my way toward love’s labor spent toward lost labor spent toward indenture under the fist toward unite unite unite but in the meantime it’s lenses and they tell me what to see like i told her what to see and none of them were ever honest just none none of them were ever honest either glass to flesh flesh to fantasy fantasy to decay no moral mess any longer post-darwin atheist amoral love fest flat world of unknown and unwanted
_ am on _ way and in the _ are going to the _ and to see the _ like fresh coffee in seattle on a _ day where the milling vermin and the pike are the _ that run the gamut on the road between the _ and the bc highway where everything works and everything is clean and the hotel rooms are for us
what . happened . in . europe
On January 8th, 2004, Dawn Golby’s worst fears and premontions were confirmed when she found out that her son was indeed dead in Iraq, just as her premonition had suggested.