Saturday, August 26, 2006
such rapture.
maybe its your vulnerability i'm stuck on, yet vehemently deny. love is an inadequacy, a shortage. something agreed to administer, to repress. a decision that proliferates and feeds on unperceived boundaries. maybe its your temporal happiness i should live for, maybe i should choose to give.
i was to die, i was to enter a white decade.
6:15 PM
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