. . . . . .home. . . . . .archive. . . . . .profile. . . . . .notes. . . . . .mixes. . . . . .


Dry



This very second, I wonder about Suzanne.
Music pulls me in every direction
under the sun, the cloudy days,
here,
here.

"When you mean to tell her
that you have no love to give her
she gets you on her wave length
and she lets the river answer."

I didn't sleep last night,
and my surface is stinging.



2009-03-14