ooohhhh, just doin some thinkin and writin and fictionin and stuff.
this is how i feel about los angeles and san francisco:
if san francisco is a leather goddess dripping turquoise aura, then los angeles is her immature ex girlfriend who is still bitter about the break up.
if los angeles is an absent minded piece of fiction, then san francisco is a hawk feather tied to a web of dreams.
oh and also,
if you could count tiny droplets of blood, they would wrap their wings around old carcass and i would bury her urn in the canyon and only the trees would wallow when i would cry. i would lay me down in a river. i would lay me down in quiet bones. make clay out of the river water and the rest of her ashes i had forgotten to scatter. i would pass singing bowls around the circle of apostles at her wake and capture the voice of each whisper and i'd cake myself in her, from ash clay. i'd cloak my self in her, i'd cake myself in her, i'd cloak myself in her spirit and i would spit wet rose quartz to the ground and the gulls would swarm.