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wasted_lines
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squint
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If this poem were truly
for another,
it would be the first.
prose the pickpocket
steals away
as a dagger in the
bubbling over clouds,
leaving faint trails
for those who care to interpret them.
I promise my words away,
gift tagged but never wrapped
and I'm just sorry
I keep screwing up the orders
because no one ever gets what they want
and here I am with wasted lines
waiting for
some Destiny to hit me
and who knows if its already happened
or if I can ever stay on subject
without
being
d i str act e d
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021006
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phil
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prose the pickpocket
steals away
as a dagger in the
bubbling over clouds,
(explain)
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021020
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... |
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phil
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as a dagger in the
bubbling over clouds,
(i just meant this part=)
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021020
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... |
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phil
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(trailing after the pickpocket)
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021020
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... |
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squint
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wow, honestly I do NOT remember writing this.
but i know i did...just the bubbling over clouds thing.
I'm sorry, I can't explain it, its crap. I really dont remember writing this. wow. maybe I was stoned?
but i would still remember...
how odd
queer....indeed
but i think i meant that prose IS a pickpocket which does indeed make no sense.
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021020
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... |
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squint
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as a dagger in the bubbling over clouds.
ok, like piercing through the clouds--something sharp piercing through something vague and amorphous and all that silliness....
bubbling over clouds, like... when something is boiling and the white foamy stuff bubbled over the edges....clouds like that.....
thats what i got from it. right.
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021020
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phil
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I think the dagger, was perhaps hidden in the clouds?
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021031
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laxed
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somebody sneezed
whoops
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021031
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