you will make it up, the pain —buddy wakefieldPosted on 2008.04.08 at 20:52
Current Mood: relaxed
if god offers to every mind its choice between truth and repose, the colors of your soul are eggshell, slate, and calamine. what i remember about that night, is that magic is not only possible, but probable. and that you will have intimacies that i can only observe from the roadside. like a lonely nebraskan selling pies on the interstate watching car after car drive by. yet i know you are not my jordan catalano. you will never celebrate the summer solstice or grow your own peas. you will never be disheveled enough, never be satisfied by anything not bathed in glamour. so why am I so happy? why do I keep breathing in the white of the sky and swallowing stars? why is the world the auditory equivalent of the caramelized light that pours from a lit up church steeple on a rainy night?