(no subject)

Feb 16, 2009 00:02

Her brother found it endearing to reminisce and rhyme about my prior misfortunes, my anxieties. Jesting things are always needled or barbed, so you pick them up like a gift and let them bounce around in your hand, till your flesh is singed or sliced up to the point of numbness. Then you can adore it.

I hold nothing against them. They were the only ones who really witnessed the transformation, which I like to think is far from complete. Perhaps it's premature or retarded, it never began at all, and while the crust has been sloshed off the innards are all raped and ravaged still from then.

I am not so sure about that I am not so sure that I am even in motion I feel a concrete layer or a box without windows or light or breath. Take solace when they are away. When they are away you can walk around nude and listen to songs without the warm anxiety that bleeds into your cheeks Oh the disapproval. Disapproval digging all over popping the dirt out of your pores right before you leave your nose is just too red.

Dates and dates and more dates, I can't even remember them all. I can remember the event and never the number. Was it 44 or 46? When did he transcend mortality ? These things seem important, but I can never recall.
Previous post Next post
Up