Just a quick note: These are what they are, take them or leave them. Just lost lines. If you'd like to borrow something, feel free; just let me know, or I will report you for stealing.

My head aches in time
with concerto no 9,
sweet baby,
love, mine:

Where?

Dance,
dance,
I declare,
a war upon your soul,
better bring your share,
'cause it's all sliding here on out,
swinging to the beat of one wild
cheat
of a masterpiece
in those oh-so-familiar
tones of the artist's desperation.

10.20.08