Monday, September 7, 2009

Waiting for my sheets to [Black]

Mayonnaise, the song not the condiment, usually makes me cry. It was the song he played on my guitar when my room was in boxes. The house that almost crippled me, which I loved. What is that syndrome called where you fall for your captor? Without that house I'd be normal, unaware. (almost) Pandora decided to play this first tonight. Maybe it's time to recover some love for the one who keeps you heightened. Singularly focused on survival of mind. Silly little demons. I don't believe in demons, yet today I picked up Beelzebub returning home from Stop & Shop. He caressed my shoulder with his sunshiny wing and told me of his adventures. He's earthbound. [Heart shaped box] Has a heavier feel than fly-abouts. I'd call him neutral. [Lucky] "Pull me out of the air." We are standing on the edge. The place of focused comfort in ever changing surroundings. Inscrutable happenstance resulting. [You've Got To Hide Your Love Away][When You Were Young][Rhinoceros] The couple in the apartment above me are screwing right now. Who needs porn when you can hear through the ceiling.

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