wilting flowers.
i called her today to see what would happen. her voice mail picked up immediately and it was her voice. i'm never going to hear it again.
i've lost the other half of my flowers...
i hope that she knows now that so many people loved her.
the last journal she wrote :
MARCH 22, 2007 @ 10:47 PM
and it would appear my dreams have come back.
i was on the run. god ever really knows what im running from, or what it is im hurtling myself toward. i think this time, it was ******. one of the few things that compels me so, that pushes me forward and burns in my blood, and hinges me on disaster...
and i opened a sliding door, to slip unnoticed through a building... it took me stepping into the room to realize i was in your house. slid open a door that doesnt exist without using a key i never gave back... and i slipped through the room like a ghost, and floated downstairs to the front door... deep breath, opened to step onto the walkway...
and there you stood. stunned, i think, to see me there, dapper in a suit and tie with a corsage in your hand like you were on your way to a school dance. and i knew you were on your way to see her, and it crossed my mind that i would probably find myself in your conversation, that crazy girl in your house, on your step...
id been hoping not to see you, and especially not here.
slip by without a word, and move forward, slipping through trees and yards, crunching over snow...
and then there are two of you, both beckoning me to follow, but splitting off in different directions... and i dont know who to follow, so i follow no one...
and throughout the dream, there is one person suspiciously absent... no surprise here, though. if i told you maybe youd be pissed.
or, definately youd be pissed. that sounds more like you.
and i wake up, brooding, thinking of all three of you and wondering why you haunted my sleep... restless sleep...
and i cannot shake it, so i do the one thing i know how... and the last thing i remember is two thirty, and the next thing i know is waking up two days later, a letter from the officer who took me in in my pocket, my keys missing, my car tossed...
and im in a shitload of trouble now.
RIP erica aka benni.
i've lost the other half of my flowers...
i hope that she knows now that so many people loved her.
the last journal she wrote :
MARCH 22, 2007 @ 10:47 PM
and it would appear my dreams have come back.
i was on the run. god ever really knows what im running from, or what it is im hurtling myself toward. i think this time, it was ******. one of the few things that compels me so, that pushes me forward and burns in my blood, and hinges me on disaster...
and i opened a sliding door, to slip unnoticed through a building... it took me stepping into the room to realize i was in your house. slid open a door that doesnt exist without using a key i never gave back... and i slipped through the room like a ghost, and floated downstairs to the front door... deep breath, opened to step onto the walkway...
and there you stood. stunned, i think, to see me there, dapper in a suit and tie with a corsage in your hand like you were on your way to a school dance. and i knew you were on your way to see her, and it crossed my mind that i would probably find myself in your conversation, that crazy girl in your house, on your step...
id been hoping not to see you, and especially not here.
slip by without a word, and move forward, slipping through trees and yards, crunching over snow...
and then there are two of you, both beckoning me to follow, but splitting off in different directions... and i dont know who to follow, so i follow no one...
and throughout the dream, there is one person suspiciously absent... no surprise here, though. if i told you maybe youd be pissed.
or, definately youd be pissed. that sounds more like you.
and i wake up, brooding, thinking of all three of you and wondering why you haunted my sleep... restless sleep...
and i cannot shake it, so i do the one thing i know how... and the last thing i remember is two thirty, and the next thing i know is waking up two days later, a letter from the officer who took me in in my pocket, my keys missing, my car tossed...
and im in a shitload of trouble now.
RIP erica aka benni.