Monday 10 March 2008 photo 1/3
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These ashtrays are volcanoes now. Apartments burn in red and brown. Salt the earth and never grow. Notice ashes look like snow. Falling and just sitting there. More trash than the county fair. The smell of crowds, a burning nose, a smell familiarly morose. Half-assed attempt only to fail, half-assed reflection ghostly pale, you're waving while I disappear - ashes cementing my fear...
Annons