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danne |
Sunday, November 11, 2007
i would. •
i'd be gone real quick, and so would we all. the paperbacks are piling up and the smoke isn't from candles or last year's issues burning. can a cardboard box? if a tin can. rainbow chains of paper cranes take far too long to fold, the wishes i make are so hopelessly worded, we'll never get this scene right, not till never.in two years my dad will be gone for three, off to see the US of A, i'll be enlisted in the army, then it's on to university. david'll be a littler kid brother, and it'll be forever till we see each other; who cares? it's only fair, nobody even bothers while we're all here, jobs and friends could matter more, what can i do now? is it worth trying to make these years count, what is with the obsession of starting afresh. can a guy really say, since i can't go deep, i'll just try for far and wide. tip me to one side or the other if you care in the least, friend or less, whatever stands between us. when is love worth fighting for? this is the last flight to blood over water, choose or dye between dysfunctional and unable to reject though so richly deserved -no, that hasn't even been thought through, the paperweights cover more than prints, move like kings and queens on the chessboard of the ocean of failed, bugged programming and winesy dressers. seize it because it's worth it, or try it because there's nothing to lose, or just go and spare yourself the pain. choose for me, ivy. russian roulette never seemed such an easy gamble. responsibility falls to your fancy ruffled collar, all your satin and silk and fair white frill could do naught but nick off another chip and send me reeling. first mates don't always rise willingly, what if the baker was happy being stupid and innocent in his little town, to marry the miller's daughter? there's work to be done, and it sure as codfish isn't going to do itself, or we'd be halfway to pluto and about the belt, the even balloons don't inflate themselves in space. i'm not some sort of supercapable genius. pray do, do let me live normal.. because just because you can imagine things doesn't mean i can build them for you in two minutes, the fire of the heart and mind is all but that powerful, and when people don't talk -sit down and talk properly, arm over shoulder brother to brother to sister, i can't make small talk on the bus at eight when i'm neither high nor enamored. yes, would be, body language should say so much, but only if you're reading. i could all but say, 还是姐弟关系好, the hope's still there, cause i'm too blinded by desire. sigh. it's true. every time we go, the candle goes out faster now. there's no pretense, girls and boys. i'm not up to this. i'd ask to be held, but the nib's broken and my voice is gone. what's there left to sing for? too many internal conflicts, external disappointments. i'm disappointed in what i believed in, because it was too little to compensate for how it turns out. i'm serious when i say, who can spark the fire? no one man, friends(for lack of another word). no man can do it alone. i don't miss the escapades: i miss the support and care i got. i think i only really just realized that. all i can say is, emotional weather was stormy sea enough to tilt my charts off course and send my marbles spinning even before this sort of love came into the doodleboard. i do need this kind of questioning, but i really don't think i can handle it now, alone, bonnie. catch my sails and take me to that calm stretch now, i'm torn to enough little tiny pieces to say, i can only worry about love lost when eternity's already begun. i'm too tired from nothing now. 11:20 pm |