Those shiny white plastic keys shooting their legs in the air, saying, TAKE ME!!!! But, you'll have to BREAK THE WINDOW, smash smash. Glass like fangs gnarling from their frames.
I thought that damn car was my FORTRESS impenetrable. Japanese engineering; foolproof security. Is any kind of security a sweet delusion??
Probably. South of Folsom ESPEC.
My fabric paint/clipping/stencil collecion, gone from the trunk. I'm really hoping my childhood baby journals aren't gone too--that shit IS PRIVATE!!!!
Is this all a delusion? A delusion that I will EVER GROW UP and move somewhere and set up shop and think I'll be able to do something, put it into action, be for real, finish what I start, not leave immediately and go back to the garish garage where I can leave my car OUT FRONT WITH THE WINDOWS DOWN, IPOD ON THE DASH, and thank god clurmont, you'll never take take take from me?
A spider doesn't cry when you trash its web to goo. And I'm not shedding TEARS either!!!! I've got fuckin SPIDER EYES that cry garbonzo goo. Shit's sticky.
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