![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.2){kind=small}
blank The piss-man packs a sucker-punch.
We all fall to cigarette earth and cry to divinity.
"Help us, oh great wanderer...for the sins of thy brother consume me".
The warmth of the shit-shine comforts us.
Deep thought stirs still water.
Sirens fail to establish authority.
Yellow soil is all that we see..for miles and miles and miles.
It's been more than a year since my last entry. I still have nothing to say.
September 30 2005, 13:29:06 UTC 6 years ago
for at practice he's not,
yet still the warmth of his absense,
covers not the shit-shine his face will get;
if he doesn't start coming to fucking practice.
he pissesth the word monday into the yellow soil,
as thursday passes the sirens pass their lunch into still water,
around 7pm would right...
fuck you mike.
xoxoxo
September 30 2005, 20:22:47 UTC 6 years ago
<3