Poetry Archive: Thin LInes

Thin Lines
Collapse as the brain slowly drifts into varying degrees of
uncertainty and disease spreads like paste over a child’s craft
done with multi-colored finger painting whilst we check our
underarms for any moisture, for to see if Capital has failed us
now. We shall see, she said with a wisp of smoke fom out going
the lips wore a tortured expressionless eyes pasted to her makeup
it seems. I couldn’t tell which, but I believe this is killing
me in case there were others and then some. But maybe the real
developments will come in the mailroom sickness has really spread
us thin.

Used as lyrics in unreleased recorded works by The Odd. Earliest recording: Spring 1993

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