August 22, 2004 - 9:48 p.m.
it is only nine fucking forty eight.
how the hell does time creep so slowly.
i am bored, but not tired.
my hair is washed, my face is clean.. what else can i do?
meh. i have no desire to go out and mingle in lesbian funness tonite.
"what more satisfaction canst thou have tonight?"
she asks,...
well, i was thinking something along the lines of that thing you said, but didn't say and the words we spoke with our averted eyes, sometimes locking and other times shocking ourselves by catching the drift of thoughts unleashed by too much time and not enough white noise.
you said it, but didn't. we giggle because we know we are so silly in our grown up way. and you know me...
i don't know how.
collapsing
onto the bed, i am still running circles in my head
and that rhymes but at this point i can't be bothered to care. sometimes i'm just real cheesy that way.
rhyming is so very ...
passe.
hey.
i can't help myself sometimes .
but this
this here is the product
of too much time on hands that are idle...
the devil'l be curious to know that i put them to good use.
in this department i can help myself neither.
my sacrifice?
there is blood all over the bath tub,
so much that it looks like i may have killed someone here.
but it was just my desire. not dead but drained. red smears and streaks running in red red sighs, sighing, mouth open in wordless- pain? not pain. spilling out sound- less, thighs shaking panicking , red, towards the drain. caught red handed.
but feeling so much less heavy.
except in thoughts.
maybe body mind and spirit
truly are...
separable.
maybe not?
get me away from this fucking keyboard.
