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1 i can't think of anything that hasn't been written or drawn or captured in some way and i think of what i'm writing and i think of everything that has been lost and i wish he were sitting across from me staring me in the eyes and we could share a fifth of whisky and i'll ask him, "what does it all mean?" and he'll growl (because i imagine it that way, to match the years of lines on his face, ...
Tags:
poetry

http://kelseyoh.livejournal.com/533.html
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Published: 8 months, 1 week ago (Thu, 23 Apr 2009 22:04:12 PDT); 7633 bytes
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