no. let's not name it just yet. we're going to let it...we're just going to let it. it's just a bit too late for me. listen to the crunch, realize it's time to go. [backwardsnow]distribute for random meetings, xerox for sanity, tape for clarity, tear for a reminder, think for it's too late, type for an extension of yourself onto thin sheets of nature. [not-backwardsnow] i have yet to come to the fish. don't let me forget the fish or else the voyage will come to an unenjoyable end in the trashcan. the sea is covered (frosty). the sky has also been noted (thick). just don't let me fall apart before it all begins, my dear [carfax] abbey. attempt not to catch the train and board it [for lack of seats/assimilation], but merely realize that the tracks are there and earlier they weren't. become drawn into my world. it all makes sense once you've merely disconnected that annoying logic stuff from the context of the events of the following evening. usher me to bed, but stare at the oddity of my very essence as i leave.
once you've been lured back to seductive hell (the name escapes me), there's no writing of letters (letters always get burned) or other communication with those outside, above, or smarter than you.
i can't watch her slip away, fingers sliding past each other in a loss or a gain of destinies unsaid. twenty seven miles to toronto and already you've exploded. approaching the snowy, boggy turbines of the great white dope and his ever-faithful moose. this is something that needs to be done, because it's always been done and always will be. a reminder* of mistakes and beauty. i'm going to bed in a bit. don't try to teach me telex, i prefer spanish and we haven't fallen victim to the fate of dave bowman of 2oo1 just yet, have we? the matrix hasn't arrived, i promise, we're independent. scream one more time about the lack of crutches we have, just make sure to pay your celphone bill on the way out. bah.