Listening to records poses a danger to my verse.
Every composition feels suspiciously pastiche, threateningly un-owned, uncertain and nervously coveted.
Occasionally, words of times and things that could not possibly be mine, find their way onto page and those, oddly enough, unclothe how it is to hold this head at this height.
Every composition feels suspiciously pastiche, threateningly un-owned, uncertain and nervously coveted.
Occasionally, words of times and things that could not possibly be mine, find their way onto page and those, oddly enough, unclothe how it is to hold this head at this height.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
indie:
what are you doing this weekend??? I'm think we should hang out... maybe you can meet a couple of the Sglaers...
takeshi21:
C'mon by this Saturday! We specialize in film students. :-D