Tuesday, March 21, 2006

last time

Word got out, there would be drinking and speaking from podiums stolen via backstory back stabbing double cross (it's getting so you can't even trust a podium theif anymore), and some how they converged in a dark room filled with wild minded dreamers, not poets really, just people who've kicked over every rock and lived to talk about it. No one was there to try to speak any foreign tounges. That stage breeds men and women with vicious blood burning through their lips.

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