|
Was until a second ago:
The Mars Volta: De-loused in the Comatorium. LP.
Now:
The Paperbacks: An Episode of Sparrows. CD.
My father sits down on the porch step next to me, he rubs a tattoo that's lost all it's clarity.
But the image depicted has power; it serves to remind how time will conspire to erase every trace of a life.
I suffer this like a dream.
__________________
I want girls with new-wave hair-doos
|