Monday, December 22, 2008

"It's as pointless as how pretty your face looks when you're looking at him."
It's sad. It's very sorry. It doesn't mean to want the way it does. Or rigging nothing, for it's already clear---the long days, faces out windows, will be longing only.
It's already gone too far and the body that holds this knows already, all ready. Some construction, huh? Human couldn't stop it, though she tried. Though she did not try.
You did see it in her, working on breathing---it was a task. When the sun came indoors, you suspended it with only one finger to its raging. On sea, you'll see, I'll put you to better use and you will find what is underneath the point where the light stops. "And I will leave you there, alone."

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