getting caught up in the wind of it all, rushing
spinning
blowing hot and cold
rising and falling
in a frantic broken breath.
If this be eternity let it wash over me
this cracked ice,
this something special.
Can't stand the way it stings sometimes, this thing
always wants more
more.
28 June 2005
kilo.
Posted by Cecil B. Demented at 12:00
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