Splotches of light from the July sun burst.

Why haven’t words been invented for music. Words that would convey the cry of a sax, the grunge of the guitar and the disciplined-yet-rebellious sound of the violin. Why dont words like sound exist?

“…rather, and closed her eyes, put her arms above the head, opening and closing her hands as if trying to catch something that kept floating away. Her narrow hips swung like a slow pendulum, and the movement would have gone practically unnoticed under her spacious white dress if the thin material had not been slightly see-through and sticking to her in all of the spots where she was sweating.” (Cayling Capra-Thomas)

“Blowing a line of coke off a sticky table in a karaoke room, I realize that I fucking love Oasis.” (Lewis Rapkin)

Modern guilt
Is all in our hands
Modern guilt
Won’t get me to bed
Say what you will
Smoking my cigarette
Don’t know
What I’ve done
But I feel afraid.
Beck.

Im an epi scope alien.

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~ by Shashank Kumar on July 25, 2008.

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