i will write better things soon

and as the beginning of december gently whispers its way through our fingers [ignorant of time and its mechanisms; cracked and ravaged skin hanging from dusty phalanges], the tamarind leaves yellow in slow clusters. skeletal branches weakly dance and surrender to the soil as they let their leaves fall in brilliant sunny snow drifts and i stand under, inferior and unimportant in this macrocosm, to catch whatever i can whilst a lump of nostalgia accumulates in my throat.

what do i have to narrate to you but a silly college girl’s life? of boys and tests and jokes that really aren’t funny. of friends that are gone and a life ensconced with chaos theories that i constantly go over. i am no poet. i am no warrior. im the speck in this universe that’s erasing itself with an Apsara Non Dust eraser.

how many times must i think, ‘put a gun to my head, put a gun to my head’?
these thoughts are not healthy. i suggest you stop reading them.

Advertisements
This entry was published on December 20, 2009 at 13:27. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: