“One advantage in keeping a diary is that you become aware with reassuring clarity of the changes which you constantly suffer.”Kafka.
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sitting on the floor, carpet to skin
i feel my child self
the ease of bliss thus ignorance
happy seclusion c/ others who meet my gaze.
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just when i think i’ve fallen back in love with her
her ego destroys me
i crawl away desperate for security
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listening to Porridge Radio’s
and her lyrics, just, always speak you and me, moments and circles.
“you, you are the moon to me,
sky is brightly curing me…
…Like dust it all just blows away”
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“Don't Want To Dance" lyrics by Porridge Radio
It's too late to try, but I'm not done trying
I'm not ready to stop loving you yet
And I don't want to dance, but I keep dancing anyway
Trying to get it all to slip away
No, I don't want to dance, but I don't want to talk about itAnd somehow it keeps it all away
So I'll stand right in the center of it
Feel it open up my body
Louder than what I think I can take
No, I don't want to dance, but I don't want to cry about it I think I've taken all that I can take
And I don't want to think because I don't want to think about it I can't sleep, can't sleep without it
Trying not to fall to pieces
You, you are the moon to me
The sky is brightly curing me
Soft movements of a soft body
The power you hold over me
No need to talk about it /No need to cry about it
Like dust, it all just blows away
No need to talk about it
No need to cry about it
Like dust, it all just blows away”
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it was a spontaneous comment,
a flush of nostalgic thrill perhaps. But I shouldn’t of said it, I should’ve stopped myself. it meant nothing so I won’t make it worse by apologizing but I certainly don’t want her to think it was more than it was. “it is what it is”
spontaneous lust.
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why did i tell her that? it only happened a fewtimes…a new toy eradicated the need for any fantasies…it only speaks to my body, no need for mind.
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l recoil behind the tapestry
rich golds with silver asymmetric wanderings,
run to the registers
before it unravels
i cower behind them
and hope
shaitan rules a lesser hell
than the sheol
of my church
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“the great love of my life”
it feels like an honour until its
a curse
of/course
ofto accept
or bestow on others
but its just a liars club.
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