Monday, March 14, 2005

Tomorrow, It Lives Again

Like a half-deranged man who miraculously crossed the biting sands of the Sagobi or the Gohara*, scathed with needles, vultures and rocks; past mirages and the ubiquitous-yet-never-really-there watering holes; after countless excursions that had made all the remaining liquid dissipate from his ailing body and now he's left gasping for the moisture in the air - if there's any at all; after seeing sirens and being lulled by thier murderous arias; after falling into bottomless pits, only to find that they actually do have an end;

He sees foliage.
Its the rainforest once more.


-Ode to my wallet

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*so intense, its a hybrid of both

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