Wednesday, September 26, 2007

s s s s s s s

At night I cuddle with my false hopes. My skin a winter window's pane. Untouchable. Chilled. Frozen by internal agitation, eternal agitation. When is he coming? No. I am not looking for that. Relapse, relapse. I will not personify my ambitions. I will not personify my ambitions.

I must be he.

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