The eerie woods slide out of sight
dancing together poet and novelist
Ah, the absinthe
the distant hum rubs shoulders with the soul of wit
throwing rotten fruit
pummeling boxes of old clothes in my head
investigating piles of a safer cigarette
The end ignored
Comments
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it's quizzical
i'd have to be in a certain mood to get this, or read it over a few more times... i think in the back of my mind i can see an overall picture of a word i can't get out. but what good is that to your perception on this piece for feedback. the title makes me think of stoner without a person to have sex with so instead has a vibrator, and the body of the piece becomes the invision of the sensations observed from that pleasurable/slightly stirred perspective.
-Abbs
by the way, you never commented on my piece i wrote for you. a "thanks" in an e-mail doesn't cut the cheese for me!

