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[01.22.08] |
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I sat on the balcony all day, writing nonsense, and hoping I'd get blown away.
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[06.20.07] |
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I dislike stories about monsters, but I find myself acting like one as I shred memory from affection and violently crucify them before he has a chance at redemption. I later regret my actions, but I discreetly gnaw at what is left of my agression. I live like a guilty man who is convinced he is innocent and reborn in new light still feels blood beneath his nails. The shocking indulgence of a distantly placed lover and a collection of piano chords are no longer the heaping indulgence they used to be. They now set ablaze my intentions, and fuel the growing numbers of excuses clouding my necessary parts. Without him I breath water, tread air, am distracted by the most mistaked parts of the world which he forbade me to see with his strong, college words.
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