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Thursday, April 07, 2005
while i was on the train... feed me with a spoonful of imagination to wash down the dryness of reality listen, for i give you now a piece of me served on a plastic plate to take away step on the train, down to materialist city where perfect is on sale and people are made glass is the new grass, and beliefs fade as you slip away from creative instinct i need a ticket, one-way trip back to me departing at three years ago today i'm tired, i'm dry, i'm bleeding grey.
wound 39 by mark ryden Alysia S. procrastinated again @ 6:29 pm 
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