08 March 2007
sometimes i wish i missed you a little bit more. i try to remember why you ever so lightly stepped across well-renowned boundaries, and acknowledged little towns you could have trod on. the weatherman says it's cold up there. he's never wrong, and i believe in him. i hope you bundle up tight enough to cut off the blood to your head. and while you lie dreaming a fantasy beyond our understand, i might pass by. i might leave you to lie again. i might let you die. if you're lucky i'll remember by then and euthanatise you quickly than mother nature had in mind. and that reminds me, i never show mercy to your lowly, daring kind. so, recall what you will, and spill out in spurts too short to comprehend themselves.
Posted by Daniel Bolton at 23:52