Sep 20, 2005 00:04
Boy, your constant intermissions just arent making any sense.
Your antique phrases and audio head cases
and slow-stepped paces of contemplated misplaces
hide the many faces
[visages]
that you hold inside.
You're shivering against the cold
intricate embroidered lines between
ruby encrusted violin acquisitions and
chocolate flavored false advertisements.
Boy, you must be fluent in your lies,
your golden lines [we all believed]
I'm sorry, but it's something I really should have seen
[your intertwining epitaphs I unfortunately misconcieved]
Boy, I'm sorry I was too late to save myself
before I went away and danced away
the mesmerizing Chardonnay
[the epileptic Chardonnay]
I inconsistently miscontstrued to say "I'm sorry,
but lace-trimmed edges just dont always cut it.
You should just go back
to searching for something you cannot define,
but this time
leave me out of it."
Monica Wright
9.18.05