Musings








/5.3.03/







Something happens at the top of your throat. And it surges downward--not quickly, but powerfully.













It chokes you. You can't breathe. Something. Something big.













And it's blindsided you so, that you can't function.













Nothing. Infintesimal. And it's blank.













Your eyes are twitching. How could you have let yourself think that it was something? You know it's always nothing.













You plea for something. But you can't have it. It's not feasible because you yourself are too elusive.













Just like the rest of the fucking world.













And you're lost. OhSo lost.













Gone. And it's not salvagable at this point.













Nothing ever is.













It's just another fucking blank canvas. Only blank because you've painted white over everything beautiful I've ever drawn.













But white is so much easier. You can always start from scratch. And if someday, someone keen figures us out--they'll take a sharp edge, and scratch away all of our topcoats, all our pretenses.













Exposed. Again.






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/5.9.03/






Fading.






Into it. And it’s beautiful.







But it’s slowly dying, as all fading things should.
It will be gone, and a mockery of it‘s
former self. But while it was here--you loved it.







Too many hope too often to be that. To fade into life--
all too often we fail. You can’t try to be
something that comes naturally. It’s futile.







Once accomplished, the experience is short lived.
The color is all too soon gone-- like a beautiful print
out put into a sunny store window.
Soon it fades to nothingness.







There was a point, however, when the colors were all
but harsh and strong--pastels: soft, flowing shades.
That was perfection--and the sun took it away,
just as soon as it gave it.




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/Unknown/


She can hear it. Drip.----------------Drip.-----------------Drip.
Whats going on inside her head?










Drip.---------Drip. Faucet. No.





She can hear it. What is it? Drip.-----Drip.----Drip.----Drip.








More rapid now.








It feels good.








Drip.--Drip.--Drip.--Drip.





Her hands stretch downward to catch the liquid.








Melting ice. No. Melting heart. Broken Drip.Drip.Drip. heart.











I forgot to sew her up. I hear bleeding to death is painful.
















































Oops.