it-is's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- smoke in the humid air Climb in the back of the car, we drive to an imaginary Las Vegas to play the slots, beat the odds, win it all. The smoke from the joint that tastes like peaches clouds the humid air. I smile at the thought of last summer. Listening to Azure Ray and imagining melting into my pillow, my last comprehensible thoughts go into this. Goodnight, goodnight. 10:58 p.m. - 2004-05-10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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