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divorced's Journal

History

9th January 2003

6:07pm: depression seeps in
I am going to listen to different music and paint what I feel for my art concentration.

That class is beginning to eat at my soul.
My cat is beginning to melt through my toes.

I think I will enter one of these old shizats to my Gretyl Ophelia's cause. Hmmm. We shall see.



V. S. yes. I suppose it would be one of those Maxwell.----

I want cork floors.
I want white sheets, to cover my head...at the sound of the glass breaking.
Your glass, the one you threw to the floor.
I promised I would not be angry.
I chose to let you pass me by.
Now you have one of my similar age.
You chose to bring her to our place.
Walking her about like some China doll.
Letting her wish for you.
Letting her think that she was something more than just a way to make the other one angry.
You are lucky for the one.
You are lucky for us all.
But you will never know.
You are my broken lover.
Pierced and shaved.
Smoked and glazed.
Look so good on paper.
But I am very into matches.
So I let you burn.
Now your ashes coat my feet.
I can not forget.
I can not wash them clean.
Forever I walk with you under me.


Old love.
New hate.


Memories of China Dolls--

This sick concern
mobs-she says-mobs
children running loose
passion against civility?
These baby steps toward
pirate anarchy.
Such is a peaceful
protest.
Babies.
All the babies running for
war.
Guns and pacifiers
breathing heavy and covered
in cotton.
Send them off Daddy.
Spell their names
backward on your twenty-year
late eulogy
A big stone plaque in the
center of some unknown city.
These are my babies at the
face of a gun.
This is my baby lying
in the dust.
Current Mood: aggravated
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