029 -- dictated;

[breakmychest]

[Spike's been feeling kind of down, lately. Down enough that he's drinking in the Death Match as opposed to in his usual Caritas haunt. He doesn't really want to run into people he knows.

After a while, he opens his journal and starts talking into it, looking at his drink as opposed to the book itself.]I've been a full year here now, so it seems

Comments

[onemanshort]

I didn't know you were the kind for writin' poems, Spike...

[breakmychest]

Look, It's the castle, just a bloody loss.
My poems... well, I don't write them anymore.
They've mostly burned by now, or else been tossed.
I'm hardly as deluded as before.

[onemanshort]

[her laughter turns to something much more genuinely curious, at that]

You mean you really did write poems, before? Why would you go and burn 'em?

[dictacted] So late, but maybe you won't mind?

[thedicearecast]

[And from the journal, there's snickering.]

That's a new way of putting it.