Sunday, December 6, 2009

daddy can we turn this on
















they mask their messages in tubes that descend our earthly bounds. at one point in our development we scribed our interactions upon buried walls. a constant preparation for the return. now we metal our aspirations encased among vacuums and smashed atoms.
















the godhead a torpedo smashing though our submerged ideals. we pray, we pray. we walk on top of the stars.

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