The soul is mysteriously unsatisfied. It burns to have a thing to conceal so that it can be unconcealed before the beloved. A pellicle slips
Off the special thing.
Now you are on your feet at last
Why dont you leave me.
Go away to your clean house.
I am in my dirty house, drinking TV and watching scotch.
I am in Medusa's freezing cold house bundled up in the dusky soft afternoon. it's awesome there are good cds.
Do you want me
To burn you
Should I burn you a copy
Beloved listener
Or should I just let you borrow it
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment