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.

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.

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