Monday, July 18, 2005

some times / there is nothing left to say

Each day a court of helpers gathers in some semblance of community. The Assistants Assembly of Disarray and Confusion. Disharmonious cacophony. Dissonance of the worst chord. Notes struck in tiredness, shitty diapers and children’s cries. I wish for a b flat to climb inside of.

1 comment:

666poetry-finchnot said...

lol matt / may be / i love the way you smoke / / /