Saturday, December 21, 2013

Unfulfilled Desires

Catalog every cause for which you'd mortgage your soul. Number your dreams, then make them boring and real by putting them on a list.

Reach Heaven by Violence. Recognize that they all have this club which doesn't seem to have room for you. You will mourn and most of you will move on, but some of you will be stuck there, worrying the sore.

You love her, but you love anyone that gets in your way. Better than hating them, like you used to. Or nicer, maybe? It'll hurt you either way.

The wound doesn't heal. It just scabs over to be re-opened. Is that grim? Question your metaphors. Have you earned calling yourself a bitch?

Remember the man that taught you the word "liminal." (You should probably hate him for that.) Grim to think of all the people you knew but don't know, all the ghosts you've disappointed with your absence.

Does anyone know how long she wandered? Words are so sexy and bleak and meaningless once you get a handle on them. Try not to get too excited by this.

You want to be the sort of person who goes out and has fun, you just don't like the actual doing of it. Act like it will get better. Sit in front of a computer. As a default, as a refuge, as a peaceful act of atrophy.

Don't show this to anyone.

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