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bob dylan stepped offstage in denver just in time for the band to play us to sleep archives Tuesday, March 02, 2004 singed curls and the new life party It takes a luminescent soul to waltz in here with her head on fire her clothes in tatters anti-matter eyes with bruises and green iris explosive It takes an unrequited passion to use the wind of secrets and sweep us all of our feet head first into floor and twelve feet deep furious telephone rings sings like a sword slicing air heavy with the tension of her stare It takes a mighty dare to turn their gazes into shattered mirrors to feel the hairs on her neck attacking my shaking fingers the sparks linger and then they're lost and left me transfixed with a big soft what It takes me a while to recover posted by Shaun Minus 2:58 PM bricks on the skull part one for a moment I'm thinking of sliding hands friction your fantastic intentions the effects of bricks on the skull fireworks and indentions fingertips in plastic bags marked with furious markers your thoughts on the matter then blacker than the blackest black friends and lovers attack here you'll see a hairline fracture the brilliant passion spatters on the pavement the morning after bricks on the skull part two oh how I am hung on your frostbite tongue with acid saliva stains bits of hearts and skulls and brains pools of tears regret depraved come hither fingers circular toward slick surface your river on my fingers a scent for keepers smelling salts further proof of my faults more bricks to fling for I was wrong the long strange psychedelic morning after posted by Shaun Minus 2:53 PM passengers I found your phantom wheelchair Right over there in the shadow He was afraid of passengers He dreaded being believed in Enough to carry your broken body across the water I had to talk him into feathers And blow him between my open hands So that he would not scatter He's ready to talk if you are ready to listen Soft warm sunshine stands between you posted by Shaun Minus 2:48 PM untitled Hands full of rock salt dust Feet chained to needs Splinters in the waistline The pain shot right up into the heart's piston Feeling like December in the belt Confused and shivering and remembering What it's like to be felt posted by Shaun Minus 2:45 PM sex sketches We had lunch and laughs pajama grafts where the skin still shows She had the sexiest microphone imbedded in the mattress where we exchanged secrets Legs lazily dangling a nap and a dream oh how serpentine how you live in that shirt of mine Missing buttons canines bicuspids saliva in buckets and salt skin breeze fingering the crumpled sheets Looking for that something in your faraway eyes posted by Shaun Minus 2:43 PM |
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