[ Monday, December 30, 2002 ]
the whispers of the neware creeping past the window.
the sky will look the same
i cannot read any numbers on these grey clouds
as we spiral around the words and symbols
another dance begins.
staring away from the eyes,
devolved into antisocial fuckup creatures
where the best sex is on t.v.
and nothing real is real.
when reality is felonious, what channel should we turn to?
and no i don't have cable,so does it matter?
the frame of reference slowly dissolves.
Escaper [12/30/2002 07:03:00 PM]
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