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You were only sitting about two or three rows ahead of me, but it was still close enough for me to tell
The keys of the old blues Play troubled, terrific truths. Speaking the heart’s mind Of breaths hard, faces lined In half time, full hop, and sadly sweet sounds The blues are where living is seen, is found.
Early beginings, for to long we refrain Sweet lies and sharp truths wrapped tight coming clean in the rain Sour words breach my peace while we stand under the drain
The sun splahes the sky with a runny orange-purple haze that bathes the land in shiny gleaming evening The light dribbles into my mouth and lines my insides with warmth
my head. It bobs. my eyes, they droop. my neck bends. don’t sleep! my fingers they slow, my breath it steadies. my work as my pillow. don’t sleep! minutes lag on as hours
I'm looking at my cat She's peacefully sleeping She's getting kind of fat And each eye a little peeping
Clock ticking Time slipping A droning sound A droning sound A droning sound Fallen heads With drooping ears Drooling lips Snoring noses. A class about myths
Over the hills and far away,To a lovely place where I want to stay.Where grass is blue and skies are green,And the ocean is clear and oh-so serene.I lay with my hands in the warm soothing sand
The darkness around can't get any darker and the sound of my thoughts can't get any louder
This morning happened centuries ago and there are still traces of Crest on my tongue. My irises are like coffee filters straining the paradoxical dream sequences created by my starved psyche.