Poets and writers drink more intensely. Smoke more intensely. Worship God more intensely. Poets and writers fuck more intensely. Poets and writers give more willingly-- spilling the alphabetical marrow of their souls out into the albino sonogram of hope that is the page, hoping some stranger whom he or she has never before met turns to his crafted syllables in time of dire need and somehow finds solace, finds laughter finds a friend.
Friday, July 16, 2004
The boy with a thorn in his eye....
Still, thank you william and zachary, blinking through my jaded utopia with gong-clanging headaches and cartwheel vertigo. My vision is stained with flurried flecks.....
2 comments:
Go to the doctor, D!!!!!!!!!!!!! Serious.
It's my contacts......or lack there of...thanks for your solicitous hug.....
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