5ifty x 1ne and 2wo
Little boys are throwing pieces of themselves in boxes along static shores the world over. Twelve exponential to the power of factorial and all waiting for mythical Isis to find them. But she's lost - trapped on an overstuffed couch watching afternoon soaps. (no opus in sight to be proud of).
We sang around guitars - silly plastered smiles and I wanted to curl around, an overgrown weed or cat, and capture. And hold. (after the coals are put out, we're only pimply thirteen year olds with sore ankles from hobbling around in heels that don't belong to us. needy like barnacles.)
We sang around guitars - silly plastered smiles and I wanted to curl around, an overgrown weed or cat, and capture. And hold. (after the coals are put out, we're only pimply thirteen year olds with sore ankles from hobbling around in heels that don't belong to us. needy like barnacles.)