|the way that midnight glistens offa spur.
||[Feb. 27th, 2004|02:30 pm]
|||||running guns into haiti.||]|
|||||crown me king- i love you, sike.||]|
i got a fucking voice mail message today from a dead girl. mostly just static but i'm pretty sure from the sound of her voice that she was standing in a large, empty place. in my father's house there are many rooms,dig, ergo she's lost in heaven. the message, generously unintelligable, mentioned something about toadstools, i think; something about silos with pregnant missiles humming in their berths. one of those fairyland commits atrocity sort of bubbles, skin translucent & shimmering- you could see right through to the other side.