Smells like anticipation

Fortune favours a fickle flex of fortitude in the furtive hours of the day. Chugging back the sweat stains, passing through the same veins. Views out and into the street cross paths with the sleek and bleak.

A white van with a fat man. A fat man by the thin men, no longer with their brethren.

Blinding all with the horrid nature of his beastly gut. A question of known answers in his hand. His hand holds a package, a parcel, a gift from across the waters.

Stylistic eagle faces marking traces on places for one. Short days out from their intended and the agonising wait be splendid and bended with a deep nose suspended.

Soon Van

Friday, 3 February 2006 - 09:56

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