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JASON COUILLARD
My palm sliding across dark walls. Stumbling in excitement through the blackness. The projected point finds my index and my sight is restored. Let the eyes roll slowly allowing for respect to be given to all things taken. Alot more than a grin to be had for someone has left peace in the corner. And it's quite clear there's a permanent stain on my palate. These juices have found a nest to stage their revolution. Salivating at the expectance of salvation. The mechanical masterpiece is more rapidly filling with spirit. At least enough to muster a smile and set it free with the westward wind. A midnight whistle overseeing a heavy whisper to enhance the rewards once missed. A relentless extension has been placed in focus, only to allow it to blur. Once things begin to bleed, then can the ripple be enjoyed in inconsequential contentness. ------------------------------------------- The closest star is rising behind me intertwined in the cement labryinth but not one with it. A familiar couch wraps its arms around me but a feeling of uncertainty still plays. A clouded mind leading a trapped soul leaving behind another day to the night I can't let go of. --------------------------------------------------- Wishes - a table with the following items: a lighter a pen paper beer weed a pipe water an orange pill a white pill and twenty dollars just in case |
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© 2004 Underground Voices |
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