In Between Days

25 Oct

Odd bridges now. Some too rickety to traverse safely but…how to get to the other side? Wings like Icarus? Backwinds from the rotation now pushing up the surf over the levies: the imposition of an assessment; the conscription of men into a futile military conglomerate. Throwing muses out the windows. Death is in the details. Always. There are no more nights; there are just savage spaces in between days. I fill them with putty and paint white over them. A blank canvas for inspiration.

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2 Responses to “In Between Days”

  1. slyboots2 25/10/2007 at 4:06 PM #

    If you throw the muse out of the window, will she fly?

  2. (S)wine, Inc. 27/10/2007 at 12:54 AM #

    no.
    they always come back.
    the bastards.

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