prowess.

2005-07-14 3:55 p.m.

i am sleeping in the middle of a dust storm, writing quick lines between the sheets, cynical and biting my own heels in order to generate some speed

so, prowess, don't forget me to the country, don't lay me down to nothing, those forms of fame and fortune that come haunting, that have tugged my throat to parchment

now disappear, and i am an empty vessel, made for bearing

great weights throughout my middle.

i am sleeping in the middle of the city, and these lines were written quickly, cynically, for biting my own heels in order to generate

some speed

so, prowess, don't forget me to the country,

don't lay me down to nothing - those forms of fame and fortune that come haunting

no longer have the force to tug my throat to parchment.

rewind | fast forward