apathy

It is with a heavy heart that I write, for today is a sad day. The sun shines soft glares on polished windows and caskets, but no matter how hard she tries, she simply cannot heal this wound. It is too deep. I always knew I was going to end the subtle pen, but it never occurred to me that the death of this wonderful fountain of creativity would coincide so beautifully (or, so ironically) with the demise of the only true love I have ever known.

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i'm throwing it back

If you got linked here by Ben, you can find your way back here. If you are staying for a while, click the more button to read a bit of mental meanderings.

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Reflections on Autumn

The autumnal hues break the solemn bleakness of grey,
Forcing me to shudder a sigh,
And to laugh and to cry,
And to cry a cry into the cracks in the pavement—
Cracks which soundly echo my mountains of content,
Shimmering royal purples against the blackboard green
That is the horizon of my mind.

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spiral

It's the spiral that does it. I don't really even know what the spiral means, resembles, or forces upon unassuming passers-by, but it was as I saw Her face through the door ajar that I thought of the thing. The spiral just appeared in my mind, as if I was saying to myself: "Why does this spiral always do this?" The answer? Well, I still don't even know the question.

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perfectly awkward

I really want to have sex. I don't mean that goofy fucking crap that people call sex—a quick lay, moving and contorting only to climax—but the heart-felt, searching kind of sex. I want to be a Christopher Columbus of sex, exploring the unknown, bold and unabashed, discovering new feelings and emotions that I never knew existed. I know it may sound dirty and disgusting, but I assure you, every word I write contains the utmost sincerity.

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quoted

If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. Henry David Thoreau

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