Saturday, March 25, 2006

size of boiling syncopes



in the impenetrable haze of silhouetted sighs, the overly eager opt to cave in. of course, it's no horse or weapon, until the rest of it's cream colored or eggshell white. that's okay: we'll be held in suspicion, suspended over the suds of pseudo suede. "well, I'll be..." you begin, but fail to state what, or when. y'ou ar'r perfect exactly the way you aren't. it's huge now, what I fail to be and you fail to see, and it's the size of boiling syncopes.

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