(Untitled)

[____pm]

for the record, i'm sorry for taking those last few steps off the bridge but you don't understand what its like to be alone with your heartbeat. i align myself with the consequence that flows beneath me. thats so like me, to be parallel to tragedy. rivulets of apathy carry the barricade of porcelain skin i no longer fit in as the rain from my

Comments

[nextlifeplease]

"It was one in the morning, a wind had risen and something curious too had happened; as if everyone in the city, simultaneously, had become sick of news of any kind; for thousands of newspaper pages blew through the small park on the way crosstown, blundered like pale bats against the trees, tangled themselves around the feet of Rooney and Rachel, and of a bum sleeping across the way. Millions of unread and useless words had come to a kind of life in Sheridan Square; while the two on the bench wove cross-talk of their own, oblivious, among them."