mercredi 20 août 2008

it's during this monotonous tick when
a face floats around my inner eyelids, glowing red and blending purple.
my hands are cracking like the hands of a middle aged, blue collared worker;
and my eyes are dreary, my cheeks and mouth slid southbound.
i look in the mirror, and i see nothing that looks more similar to a basset hound.