Of a life that was never owned
By winter jazz
Dancing for the certain idea the perfect incomplete idea of the blurry image of a life that was never owned by you The dissatisfaction grows on you Like a starfish on the reefs growing, multiplying mutilating... And you love it you swim in it swirling around the Medusa flowing the caress of cold tide Who cares about the real world? It's a place for suckers. Written October 22nd, 2001 © on Oct 21 2001 09:15 PM PST 0 • 1
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"Dancing for the certain idea..."