Poetry is a galaxy that ultimately wound up exploding.
Blackout #77
Fire blew smoke hoping for some reaction. It would make no difference.
Blackout #76
He was left over from the war with nowhere else to go.
Blackout #75
Could anyone meet me where I am.
Blackout #74
It was a Tuesday night by the side of the stage. What was he thinking? They would eat the band alive.
Blackout #73
The thing is, you see, people are crazy.
Blackout #72
Grab some sense when you don't need it.
Blackout #71
Yesterday is not a happy memory.
Blackout #70
They will never know why.
Blackout #69
It was alive although no better than an imprint.
Fragment of a Figment 