||[23 Dec 2012|12:01am]
"all those years they were here first"
my favorite pedestrian loop, sitting seventy degrees but still cotton-wrapped from the chill(how will i ever survive the nw i ask) and kapiolani rumbles beneath. that kind of light pollution from our pseudo-city-center leaves an inky stain the shade of carbon along the horizon, the perfect matte finish i'd like on everything from skin tone to killing chrome. lana wonders if there is ever a unique embrace and i'd like to think we've all found it at least once.
but this is a whole other character - this is moving beyond block recognition; its pushing out of psychosis and with a light touch severing the anchored parts that dig in and make you move in semi-circles until you flood. there is an everlasting thread but i guess like all things solid, it really isnt. have we only inherited the glitches? how long will the rewiring take? can we spit out anything but jumbles? are my skeleton and my home interchangable? how many mismatches are there and are they all so fucking sexy? can anyone escape without rearrangement?
i check for century fatigue but theres way too much steam and electricity
i will fall in love with poison and hopelessness and switchblades and kidgloves
i will not escape it at all and i hope you never see me content