it has been wet and the city is coverd with drops , and i love every cold moment of it i smile at the thunder which i have not heard and wish for lighting and maybe the city will go dark and silent , like the promise of something different on the horizon
i muse over the strange > pie and a converstation again i dream in tecnocolor weird and who is siting by me or facing me wonderwall and we are talking about breakfast of champions by vonnaget which i have not read in a while quite a while and he is making points and of course when i wake up i am perplex by this i think he is having peach pie me bannana cream pie these are weird dreams that i do not understand and my mind does not rest , but again i know not of what to do with this dreams are by defination our serect wants , but most of the time i would talk about frank miller clive barker, simon furmon neil gaimon, ann nocencti, alan moore , i like vonnagets work i just havent reaquiented myself with him maybe i should i dont know what strange webs we maks when we sleep to dream or maybe its just the rain .
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