Wednesday, January 26, 2005

maybe it was the time, maybe it was the empty stomach. maybe it was the untamed, unromantically tousled hair hanging down her shoulders, the stretched-out legs in jeans not hers. maybe it was the purple smudged sky, the cigarette smoke not hers either. maybe it was the cooling concrete, the caffeine headache. maybe it was just the overwhelming detachment of a body not wanting to cut itself, not wanting to wring itself out with brine, not wanting to starve or be ill or shriek, even. stumbling over spaces, picking up silences and trying to shape them into cubes of speech to place in the air. trying to catch a moonbeam in a hand, only not half as pretty, or the tiniest bit silver.



i heard there was a secret chord...but you don't really care for music- do you?

Mina at 8:06 PM

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