A Rearranged Altar

Oh my love is an awful terrible fickle thing – oh my dear you are so unfortunate to have somehow stumbled onto me. All my favorite moments are of sadness, the part after empty baggies when we’re all swearing off caffeine – what is it that makes me so dream for some drama beyond slow things? I’ve been misled by my movies – no good girls want subduing it is so much much much better to just let them roam and leave and if they come back then it might mean – well there’s no need for predicting. There is nothing contradictory in the idea that somethings are simply meant to be. If only gods were real and you could see them in the woods and you would bow down on your knees and ask them master tell me should I keep this light on every evening even though she’s not yet due? And he would think, godlike – for seconds, and communicate to you that the universe is endless and the possibilities are so grand and infinite I swear the scale would make you weak to think of all the time you’re wasting lying on a sunny beach of bitching moaning fake depression while the people you hate reach for something better than their level and you hate them for that more. When did you get scared of something knocking on your door? And I would raise before my god and nod and tell him it was so – I heard his words and I agreed and there is nothing else to know but guilt and disappointment and never matching up. I read too much as a child and it’s just now catching up that destiny is indeed a man made inovation. But that doesn’t stop it from controlling the vibrations of our lives – oh just try to step aside from the terribly bright lights they’ve shined upon your bloodshot eyes well before you were my life. The phase of being tired has left and now I am nervous.

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~ by perfectionatrix on October 15, 2011.

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