Saturday, April 12, 2003

fingerprints leave streaks on the windows right next to the tounge marks.a yellowed piece of paper in the cranial ash tray.there was a time when the words that tattooed the pulp would inspire and infest.those days have slipped away with the hopes and dreams of a new generation.we only have wounds that we must ignore and starvation we must let pass by.supress and opress.write off and shift'll wake up when you're being scraped from the pavement.


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