“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!” Jack Kerouac
Monday, December 28, 2009
Aftermath
Pulsing pain - rapture stained, from neck to deck of salvaged wreck. The price of pain too hard to feign, un-tilled silence stumbles after jagged violence binds the captured. What has happened to all the laughter?
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