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Friday June 22nd 2007.

The blank screen is here once more,white,oblong,square,does it really matter,size shape,why does it scare me?.Should not the fact that the month of June is waving goodbye already,hours seconds climb up the clock,no flatulence here no dribbling cocks to stop the flowing hand,only spiders webs thrown in haphazard form should scare me more...
The Chardonnay rests easy,the amber nectar,steals behind the thin strip of glass,is it smiling or pouting with so many tales wrapped in cloth,perhaps cheese cloth.For once i have music pouring out of the plastic machine usually i sway away finding it hard to form words,my mind rolls off hard to fill the blank screen with any sense from a sixties under achiever.." Trouble " is the song...Ray Lamontagne is the invisible man driving my mind away from these keys.
Tonight the man with Albert Cumas in mind, flowed with piccy's of old men naked, at first i peeped,squinted,then sat back no longer afraid how my body would fall and fold,vanity can take a back seat,howl in the wind, perhaps a vacuum in emperors trousers will speak forth and i can sigh at the blue veins creeping up among the spiders flung grey under pants full,yes full of Carling the ale made for pips squirting with the pull found in ring pulls..all the wild horses crackle from within, i glance at the ticking clock time to depart and fight with the demons...perhaps they might not venture tonight,perhaps pigs will fly...yes i think i have seen them once on some drunken beach below the waving palms,children in shorts see the white skin piss on...feeble in their richness thank fully rude to cliche'....

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bichoose
bichoose

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