wrangled and wrinkled.

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Fleeting sites of vanity. Used lip-balm, and those little breath strips.
Like garage cooled cola, it never quite achieves it's full flavor.
These are the things I have come to know in my youth.
These are the things I have to come to know in my mouth.
They still exist now, as my years pass by.

Although, sometimes in a fleeting moment alone...
I can - but - barely see past the feral, untrimmed hedges of my own clouded vision.
Into something deeper, and a love that is sung...
only in unison.

As the chords drift by on thin, wispy, visceral memories...
We don't see our future, but a past we have toppled.
As the toddling tower fell, you looked at me and smiled something...
That I had never felt before:
More than those fresh sticks of gum the beauties gracefully placed in their mouths.

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