harvest season (w/sore eye images)
cyclic progression of an unnatural sort (short tumble de dumble down the stairs... you shoulda seen his back contort), lackadaisical drunken stare and where, O where were his angels, then? tragic consumption of unrealized potential (detrimental behavior, of course paramount and instrumental) tongues are lolling and tones are coarse forcing remorse is a mortal sin (dead, un-dead compete circling complete) transgressions transcending the brand new horizon (contrived respiration, dead-blank mind blind: a between worlds liason) "my turn to see, those eyes are mine" fine is the line [-when-] angels are waitin'. critical (human) condition ...the gift that keeps on givin'...yeah, it's ugly. i know. highlight the text if you have to. i REALLY tried to find a decent color, but the options available really didn't fit into the spectrum of "readable". Written April 5th, 2002 © on May 18 2002 02:28 PM PST 0 • 10
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"cyclic progression of an unnatural sort..."