foxinsnow's Diaryland
Diary
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shaking it
framing words in between drags everything I do is in between what they call living I listen to widows, ex-wives, and 20-something-year-old spinsters they tell me who not to trust but I don't trust them my brain is flat as the Illinois prairie only grey on the landscape stabbed by black concrete knives of civilization I give away the appropriate trinkets to church rummage sales I shake and take another drag I "shake it" like they tell you to do in rock'n'roll songs my youth is all about bleakness and loving the bleakness, making it into windowpane jewelry-- clean means there's nothing on it there's nothing on me you've got nothing on me, sir
12:45 a.m. - 2005-02-02
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