The Good Word of Sprout

Location: Chicago, Illinois, United States

Friday, November 11, 2005

November morning

When the sky is clear, my senses are sharp. I walk through the park and look at the gold leaves against the sky and the robin and the branches and the berries. Jagged excited edges poke out from my insides. There is nothing like a warm day after the bugs become dirt and the leaves become carpet, in exploded beauty of dying.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Based on a spirit induced alcohol experience

Apathy is nothing but sickness.
He wants you, but must deceive you into believing otherwise.
He should say that you are beautiful, but this is too obvious.
Or that you require no modification, but this is too technical.
Or that you are what he was dreaming, of a dream, in a dream.
I am the truth...