Thursday, June 26, 2008

Darth Vader

Entry for February 01, 2008

Patron on a Friday Email?

Her hair was a shape placed on her back. It was one single solitary object. The clicking of her fingers poured marbles down iron staircases. As a casual observer slowed to the realization that a fire was burning. The smell of sweet potatoes roasting became the drapes are on fire, out of control. Her mind was a rage, a frenzy of wild birds pecking at the lone tin can left behind by yesterday's garbage truck. wildly their beaks struck metal and picked dry corn away from her keyboard. What more could it be? These thoughts she wrote were designed in a hailstorm of nickles. Her helmet head stood guard as a silent cat on a rainy day moving only in solid thickness, a motionless bust to contain strained snapping eyes that jerked to the chaotic rythem of the keys in a timed chaos of music

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