yr doom is in tangier
By aiwaz
africa rain drops like clocks scorn blows the dub blue night- the winds come like the pipes of pan haschichians guide the goats back to the herd of stars that rise as an evening call to prayer- the minaret echos the bassnarcotic which adorns my mind like these geometric tiles that plagerize the original night of the original mind- i see all faces as though reflected by a dented brass mirror- they flicker like this sliver of morning light that i cast dancing all about the room- they disolve like this cloud of smoke i drift across the room til nothing but the echo of her final laugh lingers morbidly in the air. Written February 6th, 2002 © on Feb 06 2002 07:26 AM PST 0 • 10
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"africa rain drops like clocks..."