by admin on July 22, 2008

Situation Automatic Thought Physical Response Emotional Response Cognitive Distortion Changed Thought
back on Shadow, but that was before the war no longer my world press my forehead to the margins, fly low silence where survival’s concerned and faith in ownership lots of rocks look like home
a sack of money for a crate of goods, an exchange of containers where we keep our bodies and what it felt like to inhabit them I would most certainly like you to touch me maybe with nostalgia the package travels because we carry it exchange is not change, but constant motion
what you break down, what you build a family your own quarters, your own bunk, your own cut except when I conjure otherwise a thing with roots can’t be moved, that’s the point and I am in constant motion
fog and fuck sound mighty similar to my ear maybe you should see what it feels like I’ve kept some of your things in a trunk not knowing you’re in love, a stronger thing by far but why admit it? skin, only a middle layer
shot in the shoulder again take a bullet, you take someone’s burden off also, it hurts if I recover, expect me to get a few things off my chest the tight pants improve my range of motion, asshole don’t make me turn this ship around
bar fight careful what you say next a brown shirt, a brown coat patience isn’t a virtue, she’s a bitch fighting keeps the dust down with my shoulder blades I know if I’ve got help behind me
in the black, what don’t matter comes clear we’ll stop for supplies and make what repairs we can afford to keep flying like a crate buoyed by its cargo life makes its own self interesting, bullet by burning bullet you take the battle with you

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