Thursday, December 23, 2004

Miracles at midnight. Calm deliveries. Armed dialogue. Sweet thoughts on the crest of insanity. When I profess my beliefs, my heart is still. Quit fighting me. Suddenly he has abrasions. Suddenly he is not himself. Wayward rituals. The edge of desire waiting to gun you down as you walk through the front door in your black suit and red tears.

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