Wednesday, July 3, 2013

No I won't I call it whatever I like, whenever I want (left alone)

Cars at my window
collide like ocean and stars
in the dreary night heading east toward
the sun, I'm hanging my head
above the aerosol can
taking in the scent,
getting high
getting wet
fusing with the consciousness
stream on the yellow line
on the white line, man,
I can't see the tears from
my balcony, they've all but dried,
I can't catch a glimpse
of the shore.

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