This is a Journal entry by Textbook Chaos
remote(update)
Textbook Chaos Started conversation Sep 18, 2010
You get the rose and i'll get the taxi
and we'll be home before you can say..
anything which might be held against me
like your lips against mine
or our hands by my sides
or
My inability to say, anything remotely interesting
You pull the poses, half breaking my neck
twisting my nerves up and tugging the thread
i hear the sound of a sigh, a rusty old chello
I'm the strong and silent type
all bow and no arrow
this one horse town holds has no space for a saddle
and i think it's fitting that I was forgotten
as the tree's left their leaves and fell into autumn
and we both awoke from a coma of oak
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