a snow of butterflies : texticity

by Tomorrow's Man

July 11, 2003

I am haunted by one endless snore, without beginning or end, echoing from between his teeth and shaking one brown lesbian pubic hair, of Lou Diamond Philips. This snore is my sentence construction. This snore is my waking life. I hear it everywhere.

If I were a color, my color would be this snore.

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