the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010


You want it for the classic sound.
It's warm, familiar...
Yeah, the real thing.
The steady spiral pulled you in
As fast as it scratched you out.
Now it's an itch in the inner ear,
Now it's a stitch loosely knit
On the shoddy sleeve,
But thought of near enough.
Try to hide what was exposed
When the edges are rough
And the contents are known:
A record heard as decoration
For it's been spun out of control;
You know what happens next,
But the needle won't let go.

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