Whatever comes to mind before I alter it with the overpaint of time. Mostly satire, poetry and fiction but occasional unreliable fact, as all facts seems to be today. From deepest Notting Hill. London.
Friday 29 April 2011
For two voices.
He said:
I can't sleep
Are you awake
I can't sleep
Are you awake I can't sleep
I can't sleep
I can't sleep
Are you awake I can't sleep for thinking about you.
She said:
If you were thinking about me you would let me sleep
go to sleep.
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