Monday, 4 August 2008

Stolen for my blog

I go out late and come home early
I come home big though I am feeling small
I come home late and go out curly
Sometimes I never come home at all.
What in heaven's name have I done
I am breaking the speed at the sound of loneliness
Out there running, just to be on the run.

This isn't mine, it is Martyn's. I like it. I like the thought of going out curly.
I don' think there is enough curliness in the world.

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