if i were kublai khan i would rent myself a car the biggest damn car i could get take to the highway, push speed to its newtonian limits and breath. i would marvel at the death of stars the rape of nature...end of pastorilization nomadic love falls prey to industrialization where are the mystic arab poets lost in contemplation... so when i see genghis or mensa musa stripped of their gold selling trifles for the trifles of being i'll laugh and/or cry and i'm not sure why. america lays stretched before us, maiden america calls toward us, virgin america beckons us with tales of hope big car, big hopes who's with me?
Reason for writing:
fear of the future, fear of america, fear of the world...
i'm not paranoid, i'm just realistic. hope lives though,
but who really cares?
Birth sign: Cancer
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