السبت، 13 نوفمبر 2010


she is a civorge

swift...you worry over the other...men, other men...I'm her married...I'm a little low...


you called Her, half an hour before you had to go...you saw on the train ride, a golden hand, thin and smooth, with one finger pointing upwards...you lay in her lap...you didnt know what the signs meant...you heard:

"She will obey me until the End of Time..."

Whats the end of time?

Then I sang,and I sang quite well...the others were quiet and stilted, they read the verses like they were just words...I went out for a cigarette, I was very disappointed that I was passed over...

I can't think with a soul...I have to keep calling when it's no..."I hate God!!" Lots of story-telling, racism, overblown evil joking, from my quarterm then the bus-ride, some white-girl:

"GYPSY!! GYPSY!!" I read her soul: creamy white/fake green; "I don't really Luv YAR...I said she'd be in a sinking pot of boiling water, and then, eaten..



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