"the inexistence of time" is not a painting, its life.

[happynoodlebabe]

her brow: pensive
her knees: away
I stand beside her
but I look straight ahead
and dissolve
before the night began on herring st.
a book from school kept me wandering
this may take a while
I might never see this through
they said that chapter four repeats itself
along with three so far
...where are you tonight?
its crowded at the Sokol Club
and tonight will be the same
I want her walk to scream her confidence above me
I try to hide my thoughts tonight
I stare blankly through her face
this seems so senseless
she sees me breathing
my hands are crippled cla
this could have been different
I hear myself saying again
I break into a croud of people
I dont know which ones to trust....
do you?