Cross the border into the west country, with promises of futures and looking ahead at it all with only a fold from the previous holding back tinges of fruit. There's no time like the present and a hoarse course from reading aloud leaves the tongue a pale and sorry state, begging for water. Water is the enemy of the dry.
Nights and visions of the past and jumping back between issues renders the mind in state of question. Of walking into the middle after the end and the beginning have come and gone long before. Or before at least the very chapter which stands aloft between the fingers, prying out with the moisture as they hold on to the pages.
Burn an ember on the marble steps where the pace is far too long between landings. Each footprint leaving a mark in a haze of sugar glaze over an open flame. Recall fails to keep things on the fore, a blank face and the staring game continues.
Mysterio returns in a guise of smoke and mirrors with bulging pecs to adorn the stock and saddle of Parker, back again in high school only with a different slant on things. And yet, it all feels like the same thing.
Soon Van - Tuesday, June 5, 2007 - 20:12
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