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A slow breaking and mending
of blood and bone
fit for the poorest
of ivory souls.
Pour tomber, pour courir,
pour mourir; no less!

Mademoiselle
No one, to you,
do tell.
A dream,
perhaps a nightmare,
that died in your arms
much too long ago.


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Thursday, March 20, 2008
Seriousness haha
I'm rolling with the notion that I'm struggling with two never-ending quests: the first, for an arsenal of words that send my ears screaming into a vicious psychobabble orgasm and the second, for an empty stomach.

The one wherein I speak honey and spices, stumble all over to cater to your needs, and smirk at the mention of your name; doesn't seem to strike me as a quest or mission or anything of much significance -it just happens to be my favorite game.

It worries me, sometimes; the fact that most people's company tires me. I never was very good at masking my far-and-away stares and "I'd rather be anywhere" voice. There is a special half-smile reserved for the more trying sorts -the one that looks a little bit pained and a great deal forced, with no intention of being polite.

A little girl plops down beside me and her incessant questions draw out my most mellow, most droll tone of voice. Her brown eyes skim past my lack of interest, but she walks away anyway..kids and their attention spans. I appreciate it, though..how her fleeting interest benefits my lack of interest whatsoever; in her, in her cherry popsicle, in her summer vacation, in her straight A's in the 2nd grade, and in any noise from anyone I have to expend any effort to converse with.

I'm more than happy to hear the clickity-clack of my laptop and some faint background noise: a few glasses being knocked together, a kid signaling that cute waitress who probably doesn't speak enough English to bother me. This, after all, is turning out to be the only logical way to sort out my thoughts. Maybe my mom is right, maybe I am unfriendly

..just not with everyone.

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To thine own self, be true
Why am I trying so hard; why do I want this to mean so much..
and..why doesn't it?

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Tuesday, March 18, 2008
I try and I try and I try
Entire systems in me are constantly struggling, pulling, tugging at my resolve. My ever-changing resolve. You could shake me off, if you wanted to. This craving -insatiable, hormonal (completely devoid of whatever decency I've been left with); will be curbed..not satisfied, just silenced. No rules, no games..head-first, heart-first, no fucking around.

This is me, being restless, because I haven't caught sight of you in days. You are what five hours under the sun -pulling my joints, catching my breath, bruising my knees, burning my skin; can't peel off my incoherent thoughts. I am the lack of subtlety that'll rock your naivety once around the block and back.

Knowing that you wouldn't be there to miss, tonight, made it that much easier to stay in.

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