there hang those forbidden objects from some famous garden... where was that again? something about a snake and what he wants and about how one guy didn't quite care what the snake wanted as long as he held the hand of that impulsive girl.
impulsive girl. wasn't there a part about how we all sprung from wombs that descended from her womb? like she's the middle of the spider web.
i'd like her to take off her glasses when i ask her to though. impulsive or whatever. call it whatever you want. she's the one that gave in, was she not? she's the one that said yes, was she not? she's the one that ate it, was she not?
and now i got this thing stuck in my throat.
the sidewalk gets colder during those times when you're walking back to the office after hanging out at the bar. nothing beats desolation like desperation and a will to get out of the nasty little conflict you got yourself into.
unless you see the former centerpiece of your illusions. which, you do see. with an exchange of undercurrents and a shock of impulse you feel like the night air smells the way it was supposed to again.
it's fodder for the parallel universe, i tell ya.