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The Smell of Plywood

It is either steel darts or roller steel balls and some sort of propellant that stole my night. Thousands of steel darts, with fins to keep em straight, with a target of flesh, then I woke up. Flipped my pillow over for a dry side, move my body too. Nam crowded my dreams, hell it was my dream.
was using it as a last ditch effort to seal the fate of anyone who stood in my way.
I am alone in my dreams with feet like lead. I'm a man of many words. With many tales to share, there is no she to be kind too. She's got balls where ever she is, Steely Dan.
The beast I could not see, always no chance to settle the fire fight, my ammo never fits. Their bullets pass thru me, there is no blood? The Commies, the KGB had me tied in a chair shoving greasy shit down my throat.
I woke up again, dream maker give me some slack. So the smells of plywood and burning shitter's rape my senses. I trade it for the smell of chlorophyll because the jungle calls me, fool.
Jose carry the weapons, keep them clean, I want them all to work. Something touched me on the trail I looked down to see
the wire. No use for Jose, we both would be dead. This will not be the day I die.
Instead we would take this path and set up a bloody ambush. It was time these two legged devils meet their ancestors. Now my dreams would be free from the thousand darts and steel balls. They would find a place to rest in someone's else's heart and dreams.
There was a breath, my eye's opened to the daylight. A smile on my face meant I had beaten the beast. I was a magic man. I rolled over, again to find a dry spot but Steely had that place, she said lets get high for awhile. Here we go again, colorful flowers traded for darts and and bullets.

26 Dec 10

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Just fantastic!
 — PaulS