don't really read the hype of the mainstream. don't really feed the media daydreams. don't really plant seeds for that whole thing about hate mongering. don't really deem guilt upon those who are undeserving.
do read the paper on a Sunday to Sunday basis. do bead the gems out over hemp to make a necklace. do plead with God, but I've never really talked with Jesus. do seem to wake up early, just for breakfast.
and in my sleep i get these wild dreams. i can't imagine what they mean. so many flashy faces. so many familiar places.
she was sliding down a slope on a dolly, arms around me, telling me she's sorry, telling me she loved me.
actually in that same dream, Cosmo Kramer went into A-Plus to buy me cigarettes.
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