He came home from the war, with a party in his head, and an idea for a fireworks display.
They knew that he’d be ready, with a stainless steel machete, and a half a pint of Ballantyne’s each day.-Tom waits
That’s good writing.
Gets through the rhyme scheme without being cheesedick about it.
Five days and you feel like you’re trying to wrestle something out of yourself.
Like Jacob wrestling an Angel.
Got him by the heel.
But, alas, it’s all interpretation.
Perhaps Jacob wrestled himself,in his dreams or in some drunk stupor.
The splitting.
The splitting of yourself and the other half of your brain.
The place where you keep things.
I do love the implication.
(something under there…)
Of course there is.
It’s in everyone.
dawn 