

On Love and ConflagrationI can do my tightrope walk down cracked pavements, and I can float like no one's watching. I can dance like I'm about to die, like the essence of life is within my flailing limbs, and it is. I can love like there's a comet heading for earth and the only thing that can save me is you. Sometimes I feel like Othello, who loved Desdemona so fiercely that he had to destroy her. I think someday I'll destroy you, or myself, or maybe both of us. I'm reminded of the last scene of a bad horror movie, where the monster and her love are sharing one last kiss as the flames of an incinerator close in. I guess that's a good way to go, painful and in love. IOn Love and Conflagration


one letter away from pmsyou're five foot something and that's much better than i could ever do, but everyone says looks aren't everything. you could go to modeling school for the rest of your life (and maybe a little while afterwards as well) and i'd still find you to be the same boring and ugly person.one letter away from pms
usually you remind me of a little girl on her first day of kindergarten, uncomfortable in her best clothes and crying on the alphabet-print rug for her mother, who is in the car outside, crying on the leather upholstery because her little girl is growing up at last.
i don't kn


a brief examination...one. narrator. this is me: three-twelve a.m.; a rounded form beneath two quilts, reading some kind of literature (currently: ellison; previously: orwell) through designer glasses under a harsh desk lamp. i use my finger as a bookmark and lay the volume of the week on my stomach as i stare blankly at the ceiling and remember.a brief examination...
not so much memory as reflex, not so much reflex as forced therapy.
two. premise. i think of you, mostly. and this annoys me. you're coming into my thoughts way too often, and i've berated my mind more than once for not
cool account
welcome to DA
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