2002-11-25 - 1:54 p.m.
i remember. when was it...numbered priorities and everything must go. someorganache. the pastel linoleum of a bleach smelling kitchen. peach flavored chardonnay served in plastic flutes. it was late in the night. pairs of alcoholic undercircled eyes. behind rusted gates another small knitted up dog barking at nothing but anything. make it quit. it's early in the morning now. de l'eau de source inconnue. thirsty of the(e)/( liquid). do i remember. thornless people. not nearly far enough for you to see. or so it seems. do you know. the colors of a rainbow never change. kind of sad i think. oh. and they like to be told that and so the story goes. that problems do not exist. that there are only solutions. who cares to believe them to be good. or bad. "The End." filled up the screen. the spectators can only leave the velvet chairs happy. here again. middle of the afternoon. someotherorganache. some other dramatic trauma (or traumatic drama). or just the daily episode of a nation's favorite (this time never ending) soap opera throwing up its calculated bubbles. the kind that when it pops never burns your eyes. only your brain... maybe i don't remember so well. the feeling.
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