14 October 2007

Write (Down) Wrote...

We will never be (the same). Outside, time, (with the worlds largest pencil trying to) write a guide (not to follow on the road you are on to read it). Sometime inside this life, drowning away, (2000 odd years of) this pointless charade(; or 78 years on average). Compromised with (wanting) some prize, (the blind,) turn around... It's (not) a car park I'm going to. This is how it feels, to be, when your work means (nothing at) all. Trust (me you can't recover, from) hope. Not (even by drinking) for love, just wrap it up and open (faux) presents, maybe you'll get an overcoat so that when I walk (out after having enough, cutting us) off, heading (for some bar, the rain won't get) to you.

I'll never matter like that (weather).


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