Nov 18, 2007 00:03
this is eons away from making any sense to me.
I really must be some rancid flavor of cruel,
but I don't care. I don't care. It's not there in any shape
or weight. Just able to take the womans hands
to form the human snake.
I'm the girl who is thought to have worldly knowledge and advice. I'm the girl you talked to when you need something, anything; Fixed, progressed, motivated, reassured statements of grandeur and intellect just to give you that kick in the brain that anyone else with half of one could have given you. You just never had the courage to. Type of conversations where the clouds start to roll away and finches start to fuck with the blatant honesty that I dish out and serve cold on a silver platter of fancy words and quick hand movements.
I have the key to all the questions of life in my right hand, I can open many, if not all doors. You name it, I've done it, I simply don't remember it, or it's on my list of "to do". The good, the bad, and the; fucking. insane. Sex, love, drugs, alcohol, music, sports, fitness, books, religion, writing, relationships, food, art, expression, parents, jail, tattoos, painting, friends, appearence, computers, graphic art and public relations, locksmiths, parkour, languages, travel, design, science, chemistry, cities, cars, cooking, cleaning, men and women. The list could go on for days. There is no phsycaotic situation that I have not dealt with, no words of advice that I have not tackled head on. I am over observant and full of random and sometimes useless information.
Give me a minute, and I'll already be getting you on the right conversational track to self purpose and realization. Give me an hour and I'll be able to calibrate and understand everything about your grinchy little heart.
But I could never say the same thing about myself.