2001-07-25 | UNSPOKEN HEARD

i wrote half of this last night, while still influenced by the wonderful "BARFLY". i wrote the other half tonight. so it may not make sense near the end, but i like it anyway, so fooey! it's just creative writing. it doesn't always have to make complete sense. though when i look at it later it always seems to......to me anyway...

"UNPROCESSED THOUGHT"

it's hard being nice, it makes it hard to think twice. When someone becomes your friend...it makes it harder to find an end. Sometimes you don't realize what they symbolize...is everything you despise, 'cos at first they're just people in your eyes. The messages are subliminal, even when they're predictable. They're so unoriginal, you can't tell their despicability level is criminal. 'Cos they have no special way of showing you anything...let alone how they feel...or any feelings in general. Alot of people hate me, but only half are people I would ever want associated with me.

False exhibitionism to get attention works often. You're vain and way to sane, the little inaccuracies of life you've forgotten. She said she didn't want to fall in love any more. I said "don't worry baby, no one's loved me before." Maybe she never had real love either....but she found some within me and now I may never leave her. What's to be afraid of when you know what's right? It's only the desire of more good stuff, that keeps me up at night.

Everything is quiet when I write, except my hand. It's useless without my fire, like glass without sand. I can be so upset, and still write a beautiful peice...I can be happy as a clam, and write about hate and deceit. Mostly I just say what the hand tells me to...Mostly when I write it's about me and you. Whoever you may be, depends on the moment. It's usually my love, when she's gone my hand's swollen. When I cry the pen leaks all over the page. When I finally reach the bottom, it helps disguise all my rage.

- premature ejaculation | tantra +