part I. these crusted streets welled up my eyes most of my character lies in the bricks, a faded youth clinging to the pavement, as sidewalk chalk after the rains becomes jaded yellow, purple, green. vines swallowing apartments whole, cars exhaling a cathedral tune. i hope to never grow too big for this. when i return, will the trees still open up to embrace me like roses? part II. i haven't felt quite in my skin lately, morphed, transplanted. soil so alien to my veins, even the sunlight seeps tension, cruel in her placid sky. these things once so universal are clouding over, becoming distant, stagnant like my fathers mouth: a dying moon. (written 4*september*2001)Birth sign: Taurus
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