Trip Me

February 22, 2009
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Lucid dream waking moments, getting up to piss in the middle of the sweating cold 
midnight. Khaki curls fill my ( lack of ) vision, masking my fear as sentences 
deconstruct in my mouth... Urban renewal looks soft in the moonlight as a 
bullet shatters the frost at my window sending lunatics running for the hills as my guardian angel with a .45 desert eagle and a British accent stand watching the ghosts, ready 
for anything. A tribe of cats flit in and out of shadow and steam, friends and foes, gin and 
tonics and i am drinking Lunetta Prosecco in tartan sheets wearing aviators to 
block the dim red light that may or may not effect my apparently crucial ability to bear children. 
My nails are bright yellow as I saw into steak that cost half a million dollars and a Russians right toe as my guardian angel licks his lips with what i think must be anticipation filling the hallway. I went to the edge and i looked out and it pushed me. I Flew.





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