Monday, February 14, 2005

Valentine's day massacre (d)

Walking through a town I don't recognize, but it's familiar. I'm looking for something/someone.
Now I'm going to take someone on a tour of the high-security facility, but they won't let me in because I'm wearing shorts and have no shoes on. My t-shirt is unacceptable for the words written on it.
Sitting outside the heavy doors of the mountain that looks like a stegosaurus [from Denver]. There's a blast and everything melts away except the mountain, the door and me.

Now in the desert a flower blooms, each petal slowly unfurls until the flower is fully open. It greets the morning sun with a reflection of its setting.

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