The smallest most insignificant-ist of insignificances' walks into a barn.
All of the grandeurism's made up triply of parts shame, luck and jest be defined in thee.
Perfect moments all of them align to form a perfect 9 sided star of imperfectionless wit.
Maybe it did make sense to separate the like parts from the depleted chasm of grey area wandering.
Sam is the I am, and often echoes simple jest and profound innocence like summer and hot fall.
A moon that rises twice and over a valley of crimson points.
2 comments:
What the fuck are you talking about man? I copied and pasted this from your myspace, and it took me straight to your blog. People could come in here and see you nude. You like that? This is a pooblic rassroom! What kind of guy you are? Go ahead, clean it up!
I love you always man
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