(no subject)
everything that bleeds turns to water. everything that burns is turned to ash. everything that simmers is made to falter. the crestfallen wave upon the ocean black. life is measured by the soil of spring harboring the hope for new and living things. summer fades like a tear-stained face lead to water. the evenness of fall will season us again.
transpirations of an esthete disposition... I'm finally getting the japanese ionic put on my hair and it's costing less than two hundred thanks to a connection from a now disconnected association. pictures will be plentiful. wednesday will be eventful. six hours at the salon. a full day of clothes shopping afterward. and a visit to my favorite restaurant, the garden cafe - the only vegan place in all of orlando. of course I'll be alone the entire day. what I wouldn't give for some affection at this desolate hour; to be rescued by the pink valleys of lips and the yielding of an unadulated body wielding with and against mine. I think there's a few words I misspelled there.
I wish I didn't have this job. I had to quit modeling for it. what I wouldn't give to move to new york and model there. sigh... my deep-seeded segueways through the cellar of self-discovery have exhausted themselves. this roller coaster ride must come or crash to an end. I feel the only responsibility I need bear is to sit still and look pretty. smile demurely, wiggle with a slightness of hip, talk with a smoothness of emotion. sit still and look pretty and listen with the attentuated ears of a self-proclaimed, self-destroyed writer who's much too blinded by ambition to live his life with the sensibility of arbitration.
I have this overwhelming urge to scourge my eyes and scream like a wounded siren of bacchus 'til morning light grinds me to ash. when will "quiet" be kindled in my heart and left to burn... breathing is frustrating.
transpirations of an esthete disposition... I'm finally getting the japanese ionic put on my hair and it's costing less than two hundred thanks to a connection from a now disconnected association. pictures will be plentiful. wednesday will be eventful. six hours at the salon. a full day of clothes shopping afterward. and a visit to my favorite restaurant, the garden cafe - the only vegan place in all of orlando. of course I'll be alone the entire day. what I wouldn't give for some affection at this desolate hour; to be rescued by the pink valleys of lips and the yielding of an unadulated body wielding with and against mine. I think there's a few words I misspelled there.
I wish I didn't have this job. I had to quit modeling for it. what I wouldn't give to move to new york and model there. sigh... my deep-seeded segueways through the cellar of self-discovery have exhausted themselves. this roller coaster ride must come or crash to an end. I feel the only responsibility I need bear is to sit still and look pretty. smile demurely, wiggle with a slightness of hip, talk with a smoothness of emotion. sit still and look pretty and listen with the attentuated ears of a self-proclaimed, self-destroyed writer who's much too blinded by ambition to live his life with the sensibility of arbitration.
I have this overwhelming urge to scourge my eyes and scream like a wounded siren of bacchus 'til morning light grinds me to ash. when will "quiet" be kindled in my heart and left to burn... breathing is frustrating.