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needles needling needlessly with little thread... or much of anything else...

(foolish dribbles to be written at uncertain times, on an irregular basis, from uncertain sections of the ever expending universe, and from whatever dimension I-We-Us-Them might find ourselves/ myself in …)

Sunday, February 06, 2005

] [ ~ // 


Time for bed
I think
I am the end of time
At least the end of my own

[destiny]

I am breath and flesh
ready to be savaged
and to be plowed
under and over
the seed which grows in spite

will spit.
Posted by: François Pointeau / 00:11
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