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one night to be confused, one night to speed up truth

January 18, 2010

There is a foot print on the rear window from heated breath and fumblings with thoughts and words and rustles. Cramped and ill-suited with the late hour and uncertain future time unfolds slowly like pulling a long red silk ribbon out of your hand. A tie that holds you together but can be snipped and unglued and tattered. Time stands still and  sped up inside your head and it feels like that ride at the shore where you spin around and the floor drops out from underneath of you. You feel perfect and lovely and content and happy.

Then gravity takes its hold on you again and everything slows down bringing your feet back to the ground. Your hair a mess and clothes askew and knees shaky and mind a numbing buzz between your ears.

And. and. and.

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