November 7, 2009
The dark quivering circus of silence
caspers magic which turns to dust.

And so
The window sleeps under the sink
Leaking pedals of green
Like thunder bolting machines

I can’t imagine my world with out its
Shy, slithering, steeps of cornered blueberry tears flying around
This witful mountain of hateful peers,

Chased by the red dragon in the stratosphere
Levels of defeat take over the blissful waves that crushed my sprit
Nobody know which road to choose
The path of doted lines only leads to darkness
The mystery is what turns the light to green

And then
You find yourself sitting on the road as the clouds begin to spit on
Forgetting about the teasing and the laughter
Only thinking of the glory of a new chapter

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