Saturday, July 2, 2011

Interchangeable

Your phone is glowing in your pocket. Misery thrives on rejection which births direction. I love that golden sheen. The caricature of health. Even as our cells rot, smoke drifts onto eyelids, resting, realizing that everyone is working in harmony. Right and wrong if we just understand, we're all destined for an interwoven fate. Like strangers on a rollercoaster.