Oblivious Neglect
By Adam Gaucher
Oh, how I am destined to die. Sickness and great poison fight for hillside advancements. Acidic tears quench soft skin. (the faces of those who've hidden from the lover's eye). Hazed mirrored beauty, where are you going? Slow down, steal my hand. You've been dragging me so long with yet no tangible evidence. Are you familiar with the unfortunate disregard of our lost time? We've only touched on water-color brush strokes, no Van Gogh in a Starry Night Café. Written May 5th, 2001 © on Apr 07 2002 04:39 AM PST 10 • 0 • 8
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"Oh, how I am destined..."