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moof's prattling

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September 7th, 2002

stream of consciousness @ 05:54 pm

Current Mood: full full
Current Music: New Order, True Faith (fac 183R/PSB remix)

waiting for my food at Chi-Dog, this is what went through my head.

red. tumble dryer, white sock thoughts round and round and disappearing early. red. anger, fire, quenching, tempered. sody pop! cloyingly sweet, leaving my mouth soft. lips, throat, calling longing. hot dog, not mine yet! mustard, tart on my tongue. focus, only one sock at a time. The pen is one track. Tiring to be stuck on one thing. Indian girl with the cute hand and long hair - pour, fill, pour, fill, top off, top on. No face, wasn't for me to see. Red. Hot sauce, my shirt, my face, my table, my cup, my blood, my eyes. Green is anti-red; just as energetic, more hidden, calmer yet just as urging onward.

Red, passion unsatisified. red haze, blurring everything out, indistinct. nothing is clear. Red. hot sauce in a pool, lapping back and forth. the sea, red tide, powerful and helpless.

I fear me if I ever get in sync.


I hate writing stuff like this, as it sounds like bad high school poetry, and I want to do everything well. I figure it has to be done eventually, though.
 
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moof's prattling

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