1713 lines
65 KiB
Plaintext
1713 lines
65 KiB
Plaintext
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ÚÄ Ü Ü Ü Ü Ä¿
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Ûßß ÛßÛ ß Û Û Ûßß ÜÜÛ ß ÛÛÜ Û Ü
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ßßÛ ÛÜÛ Û Û Û Ûß Û Û Û Û Þ ÛÜß
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ÛÛÛ Û ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ Û Þ ÛßÛ
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ÀÄ ÄÙ
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Ä electronic literary 'zine Ä
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*ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ*
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ù ÄÄ´ volume five ÃÄÄ ù
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*ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ*
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stop plagiarism - let out your soul
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Copyright 9/95
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ú úùcompiled & edited by Twilightùú ú
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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þ Table of Contents þ
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ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
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1. Angel Child - Blue
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2. Anonymous - Andree Lachapelle
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3. Crippled Inside - John Oko Lennon
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4. Drown Soda - Hole
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5. Drowning Survival - Twilight
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6. Genius On Panic Street - Angel Alice
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7. Ghost - Emily Saliers
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8. Godhead Is Dead And I Feel Fine - C.E. Nelson
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9. Guardian - Bloodshot
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10. Here For You - Twilight
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11. Incomplete - Angela J. Smith
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12. Injury - Andree Lachapelle
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13. Jennifer's Body - Hole
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14. Kissing - Armand Mayer
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15. Muse - Black Orchid
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16. Plastic Dummy - Twilight
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17. Plunge - Twilight
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18. Stronger Now - Jani Lane
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19. The Big Hurt - Janet Dowd
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20. The Great Escape - M.G. and G.E. Nelson
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21. The Moon Is Broken - Angel Alice
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22. The Waltz Eternal - Angel Alice
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23. Transformation - Twilight
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24. Untitled - Autumn
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25. We'll Always Have Tomorrow - Stephen Lush
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þ Including Quotes From:
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Andy, Tom Gogola, Carole King, D.H. Lawrence, Courtney Love, Newsweek,
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and Amy Raphael
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ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
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Angel Child
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þ Blue
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ùúùúùúùúùúù
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Laughing here
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all alone
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echoed in the darkness
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i step down
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to look around
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at my world
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little girl beside me
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holding my hand
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shake her off
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watch her cry
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i cover my ears
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to hear her screams
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to wake me up
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to watch me fall
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he kissed her tears
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to heal her pain
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she turned her head to cry
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i cover her mouth
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to shut her up
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i cover her eyes to shield her view
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to look back
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to see him walk away
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lock her up
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muffled screams
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inside my pain
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let her out
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cover my ears
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sitting in my corner
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i kiss my tears with her angel hair
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melting strands
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cover my hands
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honey lips on sour eyes
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to bury her inside of me
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to let her screams burn through
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to muffle
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my painful cry
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"Grunge is what happens when children of divorce get their hands on
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guitars." Ä Newsweek
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Anonymous
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þ Andree Lachapelle
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ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
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She has started to suspect that she might be an alcoholic, as long as she
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has a partner in crime. It looks like she may have found one.
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She met him in a bar, as these things often happen; that night at the
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Anonymous Lounge she was drinking whiskey-soda on ice, hold the soda. "It
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feels like I met you in a dream I had long ago," he tells her, and sits on
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the stool next to hers. "In my dreams," she thinks, "I have touched your
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body; in my dreams I have already made love to you." The ones who usually
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choose her are not the ones she herself would care to choose. This man is
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over six feet tall, too tall, with sandy-blond hair she thinks would feel
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incredibly soft, blue eyes surrounded by tiny sun-wrinkles and a pointy
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upturned nose. The lips are a bit too thin, and closed too often. His is
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not a perfect face, but the quirky smile turns her day into a sunny day.
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Her hand reaches out but doesn't touch; when he touches her hand, lightly,
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it's a burst of heaven.
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It's not that from the start she wanted a relationship with him, not at
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all. What she wanted was a short-term friendship, an ear to talk to. She
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did not want a nightly affair but she can't control her urges, her needs.
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She cannot, could not possibly resist him. She constantly craves his
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presence, his body close to hers. It wasn't like that with the others.
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"Maybe," she thinks, "I'm a nymphomaniac as well as an alcoholic. What a
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nice combination."
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Tonight she thinks of the bottle of tequila in the fridge, and wonders how
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long she'll be able to resist it. Of course there isn't enough in there to
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get pissed, so she'd have to walk to the store to buy some more. If he
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were to call, hung-over from the last night they spent together - last
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night - and tell her he will give up drinking, she would quit too. She
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refuses to drink by herself. Well, more accurately: she refuses to get
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drunk by herself. If, however, he should call and arrange to get together
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over cocktails, no doubt she would brush her hair, her teeth, put on a
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sexy outfit and meet him at the drinking establishment of his choice with
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a purseful of aspirin and vitamin B-12. But in case he simply feels like
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coming over for a while, there is also some beer in the fridge. Tequila
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and beer chasers. Later she would lick the sweat off his neck, swallow the
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fire and bite the juicy wedge of lime. She downs a beer. She would kiss
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him and let her tongue linger on his, tasting strong American cigarettes,
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beer, lime, tequila, salt and a little bit of her own perfume. He has
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never been to her apartment; she has never been to his. Over the last few
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months they have made the Anonymous Lounge their meeting place, their home
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away from home. They have yet to make love.
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She wishes that she didn't think about him so much. Every time she
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suspects that she is telling herself rose-colored lies about his feelings
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towards her, he smiles and lights up the room, does something or says
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something that lets her know he feels about her as she feels about him.
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"You drink too much," he says, "You look like hell." She smiles and loves
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him all the more for his honesty.
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She doesn't know how to be loved and she herself loves badly, but
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thoroughly. At this point in time, more than four months after their first
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encounter, she would do just about anything for him. He would not even
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need to ask. She is ready to be consumed by eternal flames; she is willing
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to burn in Hell for their love, if he were to feel it necessary. She would
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slay a dragon for him. "Maybe we'll learn to hate each other as quickly as
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we learned to love," she fears, but she is perfectly clean, straight and
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sober at this point, and soon after having her first cocktail of the day,
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that fear and all others disappear. He says, "I like you more than you
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could possibly know, more than you could possibly imagine." He does not
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use the word 'love'. But she knows he loves her.
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He makes her feel like no one else can make her feel, like she is queen of
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the world, like she is beautiful, wonderful.
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They go to smoky jazz clubs at 2 a.m. He teaches her to play pool. He
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wants to take her to a smelly, sweaty, boxing match, but she refuses. He
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kisses her. "You're drunk," she says, and he is. "You're beautiful," he
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says, but truly she isn't.
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"Take in every single second," she says to herself, "Don't let the moment
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end."
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"I went to the art gallery today," she announces, trying hard to get him
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interested in her life. "How was it? Did you see anything good?" he asks,
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obviously not caring much. "Naked men with swords, on horses, bodies out
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of proportion, Elvis drawing a gun. Nothing that impressed me, nothing
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that moved me. What did you do today?" He leans over and shuts her mouth
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with a childish kiss.
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She wants to kiss his mind.
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She wants to kiss him in the rain. She thinks of him for hours late at
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night and does not sleep. She cannot sleep without the pills; she merely
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passes out, slipping into unconsciousness for a little while before
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starting another day with a new bottle.
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How quickly you get attached to someone, and his smell. She loves his
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neck and the skin behind his ears and the feeling that they're doomed.
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Something about Hell and damnation, pain and suffering, games and lying
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and cheating. Desolation and hopelessness have always appealed to her.
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Late one night she bundles up and sets off to meet him at the Anonymous;
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it's freezing out and she is sick as a dog, combining a bad cold with a
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brutal hangover. "This is penance for your sins," he tells her, "for
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drinking and loving too much."
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She is depressed today and in desperate need of an embrace she will not
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receive. The blues move into her heart, and there create a comfortable
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home. He did not call last night, and the evening was spent drinking
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bourbon with a bunch of guys who turned out to be a local band. They wore
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spandex shorts and pants, which really offended her sense of aesthetics:
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if she wants to know whether or not a guy is circumcised, she will ask him.
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They were friendly, but dumb.
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She feels incredibly frustrated sexually: he is a fruit she longs to
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devour. There is so much sexual tension between them. She comes home and
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washes her face and smokes the last of her cigarettes and plays wild, sexy
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music really loud, moving her body until the tension goes away, for a
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while. But later the tension comes back and she has nothing to relieve it
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but her hands. She wanted to fuck him, not just be fucked. She wanted them
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both to be in control, that is, drunk enough for them to do it, but sober
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enough for them to do it well. One night she brings up spending the night
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together and his cold blue eyes stare at her; "What color would his eyes
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be," she wonders, "if he were to look at me like he loves me?" "This is
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just lust," he tells her, "If we go on like this, we'll burn in Hell. Only
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in death could we truly consummate this relationship. Here, it's lust, but
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in Heaven, we'll be together in Love."
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She calls him one night when she is really drunk; he sounds in a bad mood,
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not happy to hear her voice, and she ends up irritating him, pissing him
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off when all she had meant to do was turn him on. He tells her that she is
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sinful and will burn in Hell, and she believes it. He tells her that her
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behavior goes against the word of God, and she believes him.
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She feels like he has put a spell on her: though everything feels strange
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when he's around, it feels perfectly normal for it all to be strange.
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Everything is foggy and disturbing, but it only gets scary once the
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picture becomes clear.
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"I want a real relationship," she tells him one day, "I want a real
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lover." He suggests she gets one. She wants to cry, but instead kisses him
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passionately. Here's a kiss, she thinks, the only one I'll ever give you,
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so cherish it always; keep it next to your heart forever. He does not kiss
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her back. She asks, "We'll never see each other again, will we?" and he
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answers "No, we won't," and he says "Good-bye," and she says "Good-bye,"
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and walks away and goes home and goes to bed with a bottle of tequila and
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a bottle of sleeping pills. She finds peace in death and waits for him in
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Heaven, where she feels they will be reunited. He never shows up.
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"After every tragedy, some people get tattoed while others have plastic
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surgery. When I got through a lot of pain, I take a razor and cut my arms.
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It's more for effect than anything. And yes, it's a cry of help."
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Ä Courtney Love
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Crippled Inside
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þ John Oko Lennon
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ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
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You can shine your shoes and wear a suit
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You can comb your hair and look quite cute
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You can hide your face behind a smile
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One thing you can't hide
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Is when you're crippled inside
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You can wear a mask and paint your face
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You can call yourself the human race
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You can wear a collar and a tie
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One thing you can't hide
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Is when you're crippled inside
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Well now you know that your cat has nine lives babe
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Nine lives to itself
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But you only got one
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And a dogs life ain't fun
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Mamma take a look outside.
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You can go to church and sing a hymn
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Judge me by the colour of my skin
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You can live a lie until you die
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One thing you can't hide
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Is when you're crippled inside.
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"how Conceit is a pejorative
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how I miss having a stage
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mother, canopy bed & Mary Janes,
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how yr innerchild is somehow
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stupid and the narcissism involved
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with it is like an embarrassing
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haircut
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Moms watching their sons
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Looking wasted and lost on MTV,
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not tears but with joy & triumph.
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Maximum Rock and Roll.
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Better Homes and Gardens.
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What's the Difference?" Ä Courtney Love
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Drown Soda
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þ Hole
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ùúùúùúùúùú
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He wants to take you
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Take you away from your life
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He wants to take you
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Take you away from your lies
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He wants to take you
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Get you away from my life
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He wants to take you
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Take you away from my life
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Just you wait 'til everyone is hooked
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Just you wait 'til everyone is hooked
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Just you wait 'til everyone is hooked
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Just you wait 'til everyone is hooked
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Ooh, he wants to take you
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Take you by the hand
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I want to kill you
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Baby, I know you understand
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You're gonna watch me
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Watch me while I go down
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You're gonna watch me
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I take you by the hand
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Yeah, I want to kill you
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Baby, I know you understand
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You're gonna watch me
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Watch me while I go down
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You're gonna watch me
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Watch me while I drown
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He wants to take you
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Take you away from your life
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I want to kill you
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Tell you about my life
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It's my lie and I believe in it
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It's my lie and I lie in it
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It's my bed and I believe in it
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It's my bed and I lie in it
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Drink drown soda on an abominable stair
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"Sixty or seventy percent of suicides don't leave notes. Out of those who
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do, more than half leave really mean ones. Lots of them are about
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contradictions: I hate everybody, I love everybody; I'm too empathic, I
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can't feel a thing." Ä Courtney Love
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Drowning Survival
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þ Twilight
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ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
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The ache of the emptiness carves out its hole
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As the excruciating pull of the yearn
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tugs with force at my sides...
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Meddled is my mind -
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stuck on that emotional track,
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Where concentration cannot endure.
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Images, both in vision and on paper
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Bring back snips of laughter gone past,
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And lost I become, trancelike...
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Traveling the turbulent hall of memories,
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Searching, in vain, for some comfort
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In my bleak and dreary loneliness.
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Out of my reach by the dreaded, haunting miles -
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Alas, my worst enemy!
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Desperate for this miserable soul
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to be consoled...
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Truly does it make my heart grow fonder
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Or shut it down in the overload
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of misery and of longing pain?
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Even the soothing of your voice would aid me -
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or perhaps just the knowledge
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That you are not so far away.
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My star, my sun, my Apollo -
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By some cruel act of trickery,
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You shine so briefly upon this twilight
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Before the sudden plunge into the absolute darkness
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Pulls you from my tight embrace,
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into the mourning black.
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For, alas,
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I cannot breathe...
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you are my oxygen.
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I cannot eat...
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you are my nourishment.
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I cannot drink...
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you are my intoxication.
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I need you -
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To end this ache, this yearning, these tears,
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to fill in this piercing hole.
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I cannot live this life...
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without you.
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|
||
Genius On Panic Street
|
||
þ Angel Alice
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
a lonely star falls through the sky,
|
||
with wishes shackled to her ankles -
|
||
plunges over the edge of the earth
|
||
and back into the Chaos;
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||
the cosmos tremble catastrophically
|
||
at such a cataclysm,
|
||
like a dog with a new collar:
|
||
uncertain
|
||
whether to protest violently
|
||
or grudgingly submit to higher will.
|
||
the world pauses in mighty expectation, holding its breath,
|
||
until the signal: life may resume
|
||
(a little less sweet for the want of a star)
|
||
A girl - bone white, raven of hair -
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||
sits at a window
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in a house of glass,
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||
singing a soft song with no
|
||
words nor melody,
|
||
vulnerable, and not -
|
||
many rocks thrown, many windows shattered,
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||
much blood let;
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aeons
|
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and she sings,
|
||
waiting patiently for another star to wish on.
|
||
|
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|
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|
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|
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Ghost
|
||
þ Emily Saliers
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
|
||
|
||
there's a letter on the desktop
|
||
that i dug out of a drawer
|
||
the last truce we ever came to
|
||
from our adolescent war
|
||
and i start to feel a fever
|
||
from the warm air through the screen
|
||
you come regular like seasons
|
||
shadowing my dreams
|
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|
||
and the mississippi's mighty
|
||
but it starts in minnesota
|
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at a place that you could walk across with five steps down
|
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and i guess that's how you started
|
||
like a pinprick to my heart
|
||
but at this point you rush right through me
|
||
and i start to drown
|
||
and there's not enough room in this world for my pain
|
||
signals cross and love gets lost and time passed makes it plain
|
||
of all my demon spirits i need you the most
|
||
i'm in love with your ghost
|
||
i'm in love with your ghost
|
||
|
||
dark and dangerous like a secret
|
||
that gets whispered in a hush (don't tell a soul)
|
||
when i wake the things i dreamt about you last night make me blush
|
||
(don't tell a soul)
|
||
when you kiss me like a lover
|
||
then you sting me like a viper
|
||
i go follow to the river
|
||
play your memory like the piper
|
||
and i feel it like a sickness
|
||
how this love is killing me
|
||
but i'd walk into the fingers of your fire willingly
|
||
and dance the edge of sanity i've never been this close
|
||
in love with your ghost
|
||
|
||
unknowing captor
|
||
you'll never know how much you
|
||
pierce my spirit
|
||
but i can't touch you
|
||
can you hear it
|
||
a cry to be free
|
||
or i'm forever under lock and key
|
||
as you pass through me
|
||
|
||
now i see your face before me
|
||
i would launch a thousand ships
|
||
to bring your heart back to my island
|
||
as the sand beneath me slips
|
||
as i burn up in your presence
|
||
and i know now how it feels
|
||
to be weakened like achilles
|
||
with you always at my heels
|
||
and my bitter pill to swallow is the silence that i keep
|
||
that poisons me
|
||
i can't swim free
|
||
the river is too deep
|
||
though i'm baptized by your touch
|
||
i am no worse at most
|
||
in love with your ghost
|
||
in love with your ghost
|
||
shadowing my dreams
|
||
in love with your ghost
|
||
in love with your ghost
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"Every lost memory is a withering away of self."
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Godhead Is Dead And I Feel Fine
|
||
þ C.E. Nelson
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
|
||
|
||
this is what everything means to me
|
||
the rumble of slow moving trains and
|
||
something like cyan bleeds from every
|
||
smile i've seen today.
|
||
|
||
yet, i am smiling the paper skins from
|
||
sipping sticks and licking my boots
|
||
which taste nothing like licorice or
|
||
quite not as salty as your flesh
|
||
though leather nonetheless.
|
||
|
||
we could bleed together like melted crayons
|
||
in a box, small flat near university
|
||
ripping pages from the spine of keats
|
||
or kant or should or could?
|
||
|
||
we might never know the sun
|
||
like some have known such or
|
||
the sum of the sun in the shape of fame
|
||
and damn you, i have known a few in my time.
|
||
|
||
i could love you. i do even now
|
||
say these words to your ear and it is bending
|
||
not with guilt anymore, but with love
|
||
for me and in time
|
||
|
||
i will lay between your long bones and
|
||
cry for you
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Guardian
|
||
þ Bloodshot
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúù
|
||
|
||
Her eyes focused on an ecstasy life
|
||
Her strong grasp of reality
|
||
Her hands of premature counseling
|
||
Oh, those ears, I'll never forget them
|
||
Listening to every word of every human being
|
||
|
||
She sits there holding her hand,
|
||
Guiding her lifeless soul through
|
||
the vast confusion of the cesspools
|
||
|
||
Knowing the poison that struck the soul
|
||
The soul of a hyper, joyful youth
|
||
For she has also felt the power of the poison
|
||
She knows the pains and the curses of it
|
||
|
||
Comforting her, she tries her best to help
|
||
Her duties forced to the max, her hopes in the sky
|
||
I sit in the background, praying for recovery
|
||
Now is there such a marvelous thing in this case?
|
||
I hope so, for this victim, I truly hope so
|
||
|
||
For the sake of humanity and life
|
||
I hope she gets through the pain she now endures
|
||
I hope that the Guardian can give her power, once again
|
||
So, she be that cheerful youth. I saw so long ago.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Here For You
|
||
þ Twilight
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
demons playing chess
|
||
on the tabletop of my mind
|
||
shrieking cries of bats
|
||
swarming in my head
|
||
they take control of me
|
||
my worst enemy,
|
||
oh how they haunt me.
|
||
|
||
all functions are lost
|
||
in this immobility
|
||
productivity, in the past,
|
||
these thoughts drown me
|
||
cannot think...on my own
|
||
this leaden weight,
|
||
upon my chest, heavily.
|
||
|
||
plagued by emotions
|
||
that do not belong to me
|
||
i hold myself and another
|
||
in false security
|
||
protecting, shielding,
|
||
with my so-called wisdom,
|
||
and the abundant empathy.
|
||
|
||
i wait for the storm to pass
|
||
while holding on tightly
|
||
volunteering to take the bullet
|
||
to shelter innocence and na‹vety
|
||
wishing away the pain
|
||
but knowing that experience
|
||
is the only healing entity.
|
||
|
||
fighting for one's happiness
|
||
i find my own as well
|
||
and through the sharing of souls
|
||
exists a new intimacy
|
||
seeing a bright light ahead
|
||
a hope for peace...and love,
|
||
but alas, only through bravery.
|
||
|
||
so, be brave for me...
|
||
and proud of your decisions
|
||
put courage and pride
|
||
in the place of guilt and self-pity
|
||
everything happens for the best
|
||
and i will always be here...
|
||
if you should ever need me.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Incomplete
|
||
þ Angela J. Smith
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
|
||
|
||
Pretending
|
||
there is something left
|
||
is like pretending there was anything at all.
|
||
Pretending
|
||
I existed in your twisted noxious world
|
||
sacrifices nothing except my last precious breath.
|
||
Your adoration a reverie,
|
||
an embrace intangible to those roaming Reality;
|
||
something just out of reach;
|
||
your knife cut my threads of sanity.
|
||
Gazing into your void
|
||
I swear I saw a light
|
||
(a tiny flicker of a flame)...
|
||
Advancing towards it
|
||
I stumbled into your mind
|
||
attempting to see
|
||
attempting to hold
|
||
what trembled inside.
|
||
Yet you, confined...
|
||
alone...away...
|
||
I reached for your hand
|
||
you extinguished the light
|
||
and without a chance
|
||
you whispered
|
||
good-bye.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"Courtney may joke about Kurt as she remembers his reluctance to play the
|
||
millionaire - 'He always saw himself as a bum and a janitor' - but
|
||
ultimately she feels betrayed by him. He not only let her down by not
|
||
keeping to their suicide pact, but she is sure that they were soulmates and
|
||
that she will always be alone, no matter who she is with." Ä Amy Raphael
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Injury
|
||
þ Andree Lachapelle
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
|
||
|
||
I think of her with Bob. I imagine them both lying on their backs on a
|
||
cliff far above the postcard-blue ocean, staring at the stars. She's the
|
||
kind of girl you would take to see the stars, a child of Nature. I'm the
|
||
type of girl you take to watch rockets fall, or at least I used to be.
|
||
She is wood and earth; I am plastic and metal and have faith in future
|
||
technology.
|
||
|
||
I do have dreams, but very little hope of fulfilling them. My dreams are
|
||
architectural, promising a way to house the masses, albeit not very
|
||
comfortably - glass and steel skyscrapers as salvation.
|
||
|
||
But sex is as important to me as the fate of mankind: I think of new
|
||
sexual positions for the physically challenged. Stainless steel triangles
|
||
and rubber sheets so white. Restraints. Flimsy curtains on heavy metal
|
||
rods. Incense smelling of ether... One must make the best of the materials
|
||
at hand.
|
||
|
||
Hospital beds so narrow, inviting intimacy.
|
||
|
||
I live from day to day, with very little change. Even though my mind is
|
||
active, my body has become lazy - it refuses to cooperate. I find it
|
||
difficult even to talk; in fact, I shudder at the thought of communication.
|
||
Loneliness is both appealing and scary at the same time. I am alone with
|
||
others, naked in a roomful of strangers.
|
||
|
||
I think of Bob with her, and wonder if he will ever leave her white beach
|
||
to return to my white walls.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself." Ä D.H. Lawrence
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Jennifer's Body
|
||
þ Hole
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
|
||
|
||
I know it, I can't feel it
|
||
Well, I know it enough to believe it
|
||
And I know it, I can't see it
|
||
But I know it enough to believe it
|
||
It's bettering you, it's bettering me
|
||
My better half has bitten me
|
||
It's bettering you, it's bettering me
|
||
Sleeping with my enemy
|
||
Myself
|
||
Myself
|
||
The pieces of Jennifer's body
|
||
Found pieces of Jennifer's body
|
||
Found pieces of Jennifer's body
|
||
Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep
|
||
Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep
|
||
|
||
You're hungry, but I'm starving
|
||
He cuts you down from the tree
|
||
He keeps you in a box by the bed
|
||
Alive, but just barely
|
||
He said, "I'm your lover, I'm your friend
|
||
I'm purity, hit me again"
|
||
With a bullet, number one, kill the family, save the son
|
||
Himself
|
||
Himself
|
||
The pieces of Jennifer's body
|
||
Found pieces of Jennifer's body
|
||
Found pieces of Jennifer's body
|
||
Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep
|
||
Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep
|
||
Now you're mine...
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"He hit me, and it felt like a kiss; he hit me, and I knew I loved him."
|
||
Ä Carole King
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Kissing
|
||
þ Armand Mayer
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
It was dark and in the darkness he was standing holding her arms
|
||
grasped behind her held in his hands gently. He was kissing her in the
|
||
dark in the midevening blue-black only lit from below by the street and
|
||
street lights. he was kissing him pressed against him held there by him
|
||
not struggling not resisting not pulling back leaning into him up to him
|
||
held by him there. And there was nothing inside him had emptied not in a
|
||
hollowness not in vacancy but in freedom as if all the walls everywhere
|
||
had come down and there was nothing else and inside he spun holding her
|
||
mouth against his touching her lips sensing nothing and feeling everything
|
||
for the first time. For the first time and she there pressed against him
|
||
warm through their clothes standing in the middle of the room filled with
|
||
nothing standing not leaning nor lying not sitting he felt this. When the
|
||
sensation came into him from where he couldn't tell couldn't feel it wasn't
|
||
from one spot a place it was a wave slow and gentle but when it came into
|
||
him he saw it there in him and regarded it first as a stranger a friend he
|
||
should have known. And then he recognized it this feeling this
|
||
unconstrained freedom maybe a gentle sort of passion and later he'd wonder
|
||
whether she'd felt it too but he knew then he felt it and it was new so when
|
||
it came the moment that he understood that the walls were gone that his eyes
|
||
grew moist and his nose grew cold and he stopped kissing her just pulled away
|
||
slowly not letting her hands free he leaned his forehead against hers then
|
||
she sensed this change and he knew she saw it he slowly let her go and pulled
|
||
back.
|
||
|
||
What's the matter she said Nothing he drew the back of his forefinger
|
||
across below his nose Nothing Sorry then he sat and she sat. Wiping what
|
||
was there the damp spots at the corners of his eyes like a small child not
|
||
gracefully he drew in air through the dampness in his nose and said it
|
||
again said Sorry. Why. This isn't me this isn't me I I I I just for a
|
||
moment I'm sorry. And maybe she didn't understand she didn't after all
|
||
know him that well but he understood and he wanted to tell her even if he
|
||
wasn't sure he loved her then it was that he could. This isn't me really I
|
||
don't do this it's not like I break so easily I'm really kind of
|
||
embarrassed. Her hand was on his shoulder now making small circles and she
|
||
leaned over she wasn't close so she leaned over and lightly pressed her
|
||
lips against his head thinking she understood thinking it was all
|
||
confusing and maybe touched she worried too while he looked at the place
|
||
between his feet. Look he said it's just that I don't want to make you
|
||
uncomfortable but it's just that I felt something then I never have before
|
||
and her hand made small circles on his back but he still couldn't look at
|
||
her and she sat quietly in the blue-black while the light of the street
|
||
flickered and faded in a room with four walls.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"Mystery is the key to enchantment."
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Muse
|
||
þ Black Orchid
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
I was going about thirty-five in the rain when the faerie hit
|
||
my windshield. I swore and stomped on the brakes, sending my car
|
||
into a spin that took me in nauseating slow motion across the wrong
|
||
side of the road and rocked me back into a ditch. There was a
|
||
moment of stunned silence; the blood pounding in my ears nearly
|
||
drowned out the sound of rain on glass and steel as I sat there
|
||
blinking, seat belt fastened, foot still clamped down securely on
|
||
the brake. What the hell.
|
||
I got out of the car without even turning off the engine and
|
||
slammed the door, surveying the wreckage. As my eyes swept from
|
||
hood to hatchback I began to curse again, in earnest this time. It
|
||
didn't look like that baby was going anywhere without a tow truck.
|
||
It was two A.M., I was *almost* home, Todd probably thought I was out
|
||
having an affair, and I didn't know a single person in this
|
||
neighborhood. Just like me to get myself into such an appalling
|
||
situation all because of some stupid...
|
||
My mind tried to form the thought "bug," but the proper
|
||
neurons didn't seem to be firing. Suddenly a brief flashback of
|
||
the events leading up to the accident caused me to bolt to the
|
||
front of my car in astonished recollection. A quick glance at the
|
||
windshield told me there was nothing on it but water. The hood,
|
||
the insanely thrashing wipers, the rain-dappled glass itself;
|
||
everything was clean. But something had hit me. I had seen it.
|
||
Something *bizarre*.
|
||
I knew I ought to turn the car off, but a faint feeling of
|
||
unease made me slosh my way out of the ditch and out into the
|
||
street. Except for the two beams of my car's headlights slicing a
|
||
skewed path through the darkness, there was very little light along
|
||
that stretch of road, but nonetheless I carefully scanned the black
|
||
oily stretch of road. With my hands on my thighs, squinting
|
||
myopically at the pavement, I tried to find the spot where I had
|
||
lost control of the car, but the water had left no skid marks and
|
||
the surface of the street was oily-smooth and featureless except
|
||
for the glittering kiss of the rain. Inch by inch I covered the
|
||
pavement, feeling a vague fluttery nausea at the thought of what I
|
||
might find, but despite my persistent scrutiny I turned up nothing
|
||
but a soggy little wad of tissue paper, half-dissolved in a
|
||
shallow, rain-lashed puddle. I poked at it absently.
|
||
A panicky little sound escaped me as I jumped back, wiping my
|
||
hand on my jeans. Whatever it was, it did not feel like tissue
|
||
paper. Its texture was firmer yet slightly resilient, vaguely
|
||
insectile. I bent down for a closer look, my lips pulled back from
|
||
my teeth in revulsion. A strange sickening feeling told me that
|
||
I'd found what I was looking for. I had to get down on my knees,
|
||
my nose nearly touching the road, to get a better look at the
|
||
thing. The smell of oil and tar rose warmly from the cement and
|
||
did nothing to soothe my stomach at the sight.
|
||
She was the tiniest and most alien creature I could possibly
|
||
have imagined. She was mangled slightly; heart-rendingly delicate,
|
||
translucent as frost. She lay drifting slowly near the bottom of
|
||
the puddle, not even the size of my littlest finger, with ghostly
|
||
hair half hiding her miniature face. She was a mind-bending sight,
|
||
hauntingly perfect in her tininess. I could even see fingers, four
|
||
on each hand, tiny eyelashes, nostrils producing some foul white
|
||
substance and a trail of nearly microscopic bubbles as she sank.
|
||
She was wrapped in a shapeless gossamer garment that had begun to
|
||
unwind from her body, giving the effect of strange filmy parasites
|
||
swaying in the water. White fluid seeped from her ribs and from
|
||
one of her tiny knees, not dissolving, but hanging thickly in the
|
||
water like glue. I had just killed a faerie.
|
||
That was the word my mind supplied for the creature in front
|
||
of me. She lay there in the puddle, so real I could feel prickles
|
||
dancing over my scalp and the backs of my arms, and all I could
|
||
think of were the delicate little drawings in the picture books my
|
||
little girl loved so. I had mowed down Tinkerbell. It was so
|
||
ludicrous I began to laugh, but looking at the creature floating
|
||
there limply on the road, something twisted inside of me and I
|
||
choked. "Oh God," I said out loud, feeling more than a bit mad.
|
||
"What have I done?"
|
||
I tentatively reached the tip of my littlest finger into the
|
||
puddle, easing some the hair away from her face. One of her cheeks
|
||
was torn nearly off, the flesh waving aimlessly in the water. Her
|
||
translucent lids gave an eerie view of black eyes beneath, like a
|
||
baby bird's. I felt huge, awkward, lethal. "Jesus, what did I
|
||
*do*?" I said shakily. I stared at the carnage, transfixed.
|
||
I don't think I was there too long, when suddenly I saw the
|
||
headlights in the distance. Someone was coming in from town. I
|
||
looked up, a little wild-eyed. They were coming toward me; I was
|
||
in the left lane. I looked down at the faerie, who was right in
|
||
the tire-path of the oncoming car. What if there was something I
|
||
could do to fix her? What if she was just stunned, and needed to
|
||
dry off and fly away? I'd seen baby birds and insects make it
|
||
through worse injury than a smashed up face and a few flesh wounds.
|
||
Maybe she just needed to be someplace warm and dry. The car was
|
||
coming toward me fast, weaving a little around the curves. She
|
||
didn't have a chance. Shaking almost convulsively, I fished the
|
||
faerie out of the water, laid her across my palm, and bolted back
|
||
to my car, half-sliding down the side of the ditch in my panic just
|
||
as the sportscar whipped by, creating a shock of warm foul air in
|
||
its wake. I swayed and shuddered, jealously guarding the limp
|
||
little creature as though she were a candle flame in danger of
|
||
going out.
|
||
I got back in the car, killed the lights and the wipers, took
|
||
the key, and locked the door behind me. My latest course of action
|
||
had made it rather awkward to seek help from a neighbor, so I was
|
||
left with only one choice. It was a safe neighborhood and a warm
|
||
night despite the rain. Shielding my little victim from the
|
||
onslaught of the weather, I began to walk.
|
||
|
||
|
||
"Honey." The word fell like a pebble into my dream-pond,
|
||
gently shattering the images on the surface.
|
||
I opened my eyes and rolled over in bed. My hair was still
|
||
damp and tangled, and I could feel an aching stiffness beginning to
|
||
creep into my calves and the backs of my thighs. There was no room
|
||
for confusion; I had every recollection of the events of the
|
||
previous night. I hadn't said a word to Todd about the real cause
|
||
of my accident; I simply blamed it on my own carelessness. Now as
|
||
I slowly awakened I smiled up at him, squinting as the light from
|
||
behind him gave him a slightly angelic aspect. "Morning, honey,"
|
||
I mumbled sleepily. "What time is it?"
|
||
"It's just before noon," he said, smoothing my hair from my
|
||
face. "I thought you'd want to get up."
|
||
"Where's Eden?"
|
||
"I fed her breakfast already; right now she's having a blast
|
||
playing with Baby Grand." He grinned wryly. "Better than pots and
|
||
pans, but not by much."
|
||
"Thanks for letting me sleep, hon," I said, pulling Todd down
|
||
for a kiss. "I'd better go and work a while, though."
|
||
"Already?" He looked almost concerned.
|
||
I shrugged, then gave him a reassuring grin. "I'm inspired."
|
||
He tugged on a strand of my hair. "I'm beginning to think the
|
||
whole thing's just an excuse not to indulge in the little joys of
|
||
motherhood."
|
||
I winked, kissed him on the cheek and hopped out of bed,
|
||
snatching up my robe on the way out. I was headed for the studio,
|
||
but I had no intention of picking up a paintbrush just yet.
|
||
The matchbox was sitting on the bay window where I'd left it,
|
||
just behind the sunlit, white-shrouded easel that concealed the
|
||
portrait of Todd I'd been working on for a month. I raced over to
|
||
the window with my gut half tied up in a knot, but of all the
|
||
things I had expected to find, *nothing* had not been one of them.
|
||
The soft peach toilet tissue still lay in the box, slightly
|
||
flattened, where I'd stuffed it last night in an attempt to give
|
||
the little creature a trace of comfort. However, the object of my
|
||
concern was nowhere to be found. I knew I wasn't genius enough to
|
||
be crazy, so I refused to write off last night's experiences as
|
||
hallucination. She was real and had somehow escaped me. At least
|
||
I could tell myself I hadn't killed her. But if that were the
|
||
case, then where was she? With a sharp little twinge of dismay, I
|
||
realized that there was no way I would ever find the creature if
|
||
she didn't want to be found; she wasn't much larger than the needle
|
||
in the proverbial haystack.
|
||
Futilely I searched the room and then forced myself to give
|
||
up, disappointed and confused. It was all just so odd; I couldn't
|
||
get it out of my mind. Nevertheless, I was an adult and I couldn't
|
||
afford to play the tomboy whose pet caterpillar had crawled away.
|
||
I drew the sheet off of my portrait, picked up my palette and a
|
||
clean brush from the table at my side, and contented myself with
|
||
staring critically at the golden-lit face before me. I could at
|
||
least get some work done.
|
||
I had laid down about three brushstrokes when I heard the
|
||
faerie's voice in my ear. There was not a moment of doubt as to
|
||
what I was hearing; that soft, whirring sound hinting at glass and
|
||
bells could only belong to one creature. It was clearly a
|
||
greeting.
|
||
"Well hello," I said without turning from my portrait. My
|
||
hand shook slightly. "How are we feeling this morning?"
|
||
She didn't answer me in words, but there was another brief
|
||
glassy song in my ear with a few jagged shards in it. I received
|
||
a distinct image of pain.
|
||
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm very sorry. You must be a mess.
|
||
I won't look at you if you'd like." Somehow I had already gotten
|
||
a clear impression of vanity from the creature.
|
||
She crooned soothing melodies into my ear, melodies that
|
||
brought with them images of healing, a healing that took place with
|
||
inhuman rapidness and completeness.
|
||
"Well, I suppose I needn't have worried then," I said, feeling
|
||
a bit foolish.
|
||
I received a strong sense of negation, followed by a tremulous
|
||
song of fear, fear of sinking, drowning, suffocating. Apparently
|
||
she wasn't too keen on water. I felt the blessed air on her skin;
|
||
I felt her slowly regaining energy and life force. Suddenly I was
|
||
overwhelmed by a sensation of gratitude. No, it wasn't gratitude,
|
||
the emotion was too reluctant, too sulky. It was more like...
|
||
obligation.
|
||
"Oh, no," I said. "You go your merry way. I don't ask
|
||
anything of you in return."
|
||
Again I was cut off sharply by an argumentative trill. Those
|
||
were the rules, she told me in her song. I laughed incredulously.
|
||
It was like something out of a fairy tale; apparently she had to do
|
||
something nice for me, according to some sort of law. I could also
|
||
sense that she was very unhappy about it.
|
||
"Alright, fine," I said. "I understand. But the thing is, I
|
||
don't really want anything that I can think of. I'd really rather
|
||
you just be on your way."
|
||
Suddenly the fragile thrumming of her song was in my other
|
||
ear, playful. I sensed her doubt. *Everyone wants something*.
|
||
"Not me," I assured her. "I just sold a painting, I have a
|
||
loving husband and a precious little baby--"
|
||
I was cut off by a loud jingling chord of triumph. She seemed
|
||
to seize upon my image of the child, wrap it in iridescent radiance
|
||
and cascades of bells. There was something oddly acquisitional in
|
||
the sound, and for a brief horrible moment I remembered the tales
|
||
of changelings. I calmed myself, amused at my own irrationality.
|
||
How could something that tiny make off with Eden?
|
||
"What about her?" I said warily.
|
||
Suddenly her song changed, and I found myself on the receiving
|
||
end of a multitude of prophetic visions. I saw Eden at three,
|
||
picking up a tiny violin and producing beautifully clear strains of
|
||
music. I saw Eden at four, solemnly poring over an encyclopedia.
|
||
I saw Eden at five, standing at a tiny easel and producing a
|
||
brilliant impressionistic rendering of the front yard. I laughed,
|
||
then suddenly realized that this was not exaggeration for the sake
|
||
of compliment; this was the faerie's *offer*. These images were all
|
||
*options*.
|
||
I turned and faced the faerie for the first time. She hovered
|
||
erratically in front of me; from a distance I might have mistaken
|
||
her for a bizarre dragonfly. The sunlight streaming in from the
|
||
window was thrown off of her wings in impossible chords of
|
||
radiance; her shadow flickered over my painting like a tiny bat.
|
||
I was faintly unnerved as I gazed into her eyes; they were as black
|
||
and depthless as the eyes of an insect. But her song was endless
|
||
in its promise.
|
||
"Can you *do* that?" I whispered.
|
||
By way of answer, she filled my mind with images of Mozart,
|
||
Einstein, Van Gogh, and others. Was I to believe that all these
|
||
people had received their genius at the hands of faerie godmothers?
|
||
I was skeptical, but when I objected I was assailed by a
|
||
cacophonous rendering of sincerity compounded with disbelief. She
|
||
was astounded by my ignorance.
|
||
"It's true, isn't it," I said, amazed. I stretched out my
|
||
palm; she lighted on it comfortably and met my eyes. Her hair
|
||
floated about her shoulders like cobwebs, the individual strands
|
||
too fine to be seen by the naked eye. She leaned back on her hands
|
||
like an overconfident teenager and regarded me with a wide smile
|
||
the size of an eyelash. Her weight was so slight I felt as if I
|
||
held a butterfly in my palm. She waited.
|
||
"I don't know," I said. "I just don't know. It's all so...
|
||
weird." Suddenly an idea occurred to me. It wasn't too late for
|
||
me to make millions of dollars with my paintings; I'd only just
|
||
gotten started. "Couldn't you make me a genius instead?" I asked.
|
||
Her wings vibrated a negative without moving her, then
|
||
produced a series of delicate tinkling sounds which perfectly
|
||
conveyed the malleability of an infant's soul; the tenuous grasp it
|
||
had on the young body. Children were hardly alive at all; a strong
|
||
wind could blow their souls away to Heaven. Even the tiniest of
|
||
faeries could easily... *shape* them.
|
||
I felt her hesitation. "What do you do to them?" I asked.
|
||
"What did you do to Mozart, to Einstein?"
|
||
Her song rather discordantly absolved her of personal
|
||
responsibility.
|
||
"What did your *people* do to them?" I insisted, refusing to be
|
||
tricked by technicalities. I sensed that she could not lie to me.
|
||
I received images of glory, of fame, of artistic immortality.
|
||
"But how?" I said impatiently. "How did you do it?"
|
||
There was a brief pause. She seemed to be collecting her
|
||
thoughts. At last her wings strummed forth a single crystalline
|
||
chord: *magic*.
|
||
|
||
|
||
It was our TV time, the time when Eden slept peacefully
|
||
upstairs and Todd and I could unwind, but there I was, flipping
|
||
idly through one of my library books while *Northern Exposure*
|
||
unfolded its little dramas in the background. Every now and then
|
||
I heard Todd's laughter, but other than that my awareness was sunk
|
||
deeply into the pages of one of a stack of biographies. Nowhere,
|
||
not anywhere, was there a single speculation as to *why*. The writer
|
||
was all too eager to detail every facet of Mozart's genius, but
|
||
never once did the woman question the very existence of such a
|
||
mind-boggling talent. What deal had his mother made, and with what
|
||
strange being? What were the consequences? Was I playing Faust,
|
||
or fairy godmother?
|
||
Todd's uproarious mirth broke my concentration. I looked up
|
||
to find him breathless with laughter, his face red and his eyes
|
||
teary. He pointed to the television. "Honey, you're missing a
|
||
great episode," he said, wheezing slightly and wiping tears from
|
||
his eyes. "Shelley can't talk at all, just sing. It's
|
||
hysterical."
|
||
I started to ask how a person could communicate that way, but
|
||
suddenly I remembered the extremely communicative little faerie
|
||
lurking somewhere in my studio and thought better of it.
|
||
Todd gave one last little chuckle. "You should stop reading
|
||
just long enough to watch this. It's great. Why all the
|
||
biographies, anyway?"
|
||
"I'm... well, I'm thinking of trying something more abstract
|
||
after I finish this next project. A kind of... mood painting,
|
||
capturing the... the *quality* of genius. I just thought these
|
||
might help somehow." It occurred to me that I had just lied to my
|
||
husband, and I found it a distressingly unremarkable feat.
|
||
"Research? For a painting? Well, whatever works." He shrugged
|
||
and turned his attention to his salsa.
|
||
I was just thinking of closing the book when I came across a
|
||
letter written by Mozart to a friend. I was drawn to it and found
|
||
myself reading it, my eyes narrowing as I studied the translation
|
||
intently. The man was obviously insane. He seemed to play his own
|
||
strange private little games in the letter, tacking on irrelevant
|
||
rhyming words to the ends of sentences, injecting random
|
||
expletives, and other nonsense. Was all genius madness? Was this
|
||
what I was considering offering to my child?
|
||
But more disturbing than Mozart's madness was the form in
|
||
which it took. There was something *fey* about it. The way his mind
|
||
worked was alien, calculating, playful. A deep suspicion began to
|
||
form inside my mind, and I shut the book in alarm. On the
|
||
television, Shelley was singing a jazzy version of the fable "The
|
||
Old Woman and the Snake." A rerun.
|
||
"I've seen this one," I said to Todd by way of explanation.
|
||
"I'm going to go work on my painting." I ignored Todd's look of
|
||
concern and bolted upstairs.
|
||
The faerie was perched atop my canvas, her tiny form
|
||
glittering strangely in the moonlight. She seemed more a part of
|
||
the moonlight than a reflector of it, silvery and insubstantial.
|
||
I didn't bother to switch on the light, but instead went to sit in
|
||
the bay window, throwing my shadow across her. Only then did she
|
||
seem to notice me. She was slightly backlit from the open door,
|
||
her wings and her hair a halo around a tiny, featureless dark form.
|
||
I shuddered.
|
||
"The stories about changelings," I said. "Are they true?"
|
||
There was a long silence. I was afraid she would not answer,
|
||
but then her song began, a tiny cricket's trill in the darkness.
|
||
She showed me a glimpse of her world, a strange, shifting dreamlike
|
||
landscape full of intense color and harmonious song. Then she
|
||
showed me my world: full of patterns, ruled by logic and
|
||
predictability. After I absorbed this I was presented with a pair
|
||
of alternate worlds. One: a swirling mass of chaos with no form,
|
||
no rhyme and reason. The other: a gray, colorless nightmare of
|
||
mundane order and stasis. The first was meant to be her world, the
|
||
second mine.
|
||
The solution: an exchange of souls. In the tremulous notes
|
||
of her music, I saw a child leave my world in a faerie's body, and
|
||
in its place I saw a fairie live a human life, bringing to the
|
||
human world joy, color, and genius.
|
||
"And madness?" I said.
|
||
She purred her agreement. Unabashedly she sang to me of
|
||
madness and its unsettling effect on my world. She seemed to think
|
||
it was a world that needed to be unsettled now and then, lest it
|
||
gather dust and cobwebs. Her chords rang with balance and harmony,
|
||
and her song stirringly spoke of the need for exchange between the
|
||
two worlds.
|
||
"Well, you can find your exchange somewhere else then," I said
|
||
coldly. "I love Eden the way she is, and I don't want to spend
|
||
sixteen more years raising you. I want Eden here, and you where
|
||
you belong. You'll have to find some other way to 'repay' your
|
||
debt to me, because you won't be doing me a favor by taking my
|
||
daughter away and leaving a mad genius in her place. I may be a
|
||
mere mundane human, but I'm not stupid."
|
||
The motion of her wings became rapid enough to create a shrill
|
||
buzzing sound as the room filled with her anger. Suddenly I wanted
|
||
to make a dash for the lightswitch, but I refused to budge or to
|
||
take my eyes from her. She was only two inches high, for God's
|
||
sake.
|
||
*So be it*. The words rang sharply out in song, as clearly as
|
||
if she had spoken them. I realized that she would haunt my studio
|
||
and my mind until I further instructed her; out of spite as much as
|
||
out of loyalty to her laws. I had to think of some appropriate
|
||
payment for her wretched little life, or else I would have to live
|
||
with her for the rest of mine. She was not pleased with me.
|
||
"All right," I said. "I'll stay up all night thinking if I have
|
||
to. But when I come in here tomorrow morning I'm going to tell you
|
||
what I want you to do, and you will comply with that. I want you
|
||
out of here. Do you understand?"
|
||
The faerie did not deign to flutter a wingtip, but sat there
|
||
in sullen silence. When I refused to move or take my eyes from
|
||
her, she produced a single abrupt note of comprehension.
|
||
"Good then," I said, rising from the window seat. "I'll see
|
||
you tomorrow morning.
|
||
I shut the door behind me.
|
||
|
||
|
||
The next day dawned cool and clear, with a breath of winter
|
||
in it. It was the day after Labor Day; Todd had to go to work. He
|
||
woke me before he left so that I could watch Eden, who was sitting
|
||
in the living room absorbed with her new favorite toy, "Baby
|
||
Grand." It was just like a piano only smaller, made of cheap
|
||
plastic, and painted in garish shades of pink and green. Any toy
|
||
that made noise was a big hit with Eden. I watched her with an
|
||
involuntary smile as Todd put his jacket on. Her little golden
|
||
head was bent over the keys in a parody of prodigious musical
|
||
genius, but she was making nothing but noise, thank God. She
|
||
looked up at me and smiled. "Bye-bye Daddy," she said, waving
|
||
crookedly.
|
||
"Bye-bye honey," he said. "Bye-bye, honey number two," he
|
||
said to me, and kissed me on the cheek before he walked out the
|
||
front door.
|
||
I went into the kitchen to make myself and Eden some
|
||
breakfast. I knew I would have to deal with the faerie soon, but
|
||
I was having a hard time thinking of something within her power
|
||
that I would want her to do for me. I began to sing the song from
|
||
last night's show as I got a trio of eggs out of the refrigerator.
|
||
Singing usually helped me think; I hummed the parts where I
|
||
couldn't remember the words. The kitchen was filled with sunlight;
|
||
I cracked an egg and hummed away, half-listening to Eden's babyish
|
||
prattle.
|
||
"Burr-fy!" she said suddenly.
|
||
I dropped an egg on the kitchen floor. It shattered, sending
|
||
yellowish slime in all directions. *Butterfly*.
|
||
I raced into the living room, leaving the egg all over the
|
||
kitchen tile. The faerie was there, its wretched wings moving
|
||
silently, secretively next to my baby's ear. It was sitting on her
|
||
shoulder; they looked like old friends. I felt a wave of nausea
|
||
nearly overcome me.
|
||
"Get away from her!" I shrieked, racing over to snatch up my
|
||
daughter from the floor and hold her to my heart. The faerie fell
|
||
away from her and hovered in the air around the toy piano, looking
|
||
confused. "Don't you touch her! Do you hear me?"
|
||
The faerie trilled a little bewildered note and began to
|
||
follow me as I backed away. "Get away, do you hear me? Get *away*!"
|
||
The faerie's sharp little black eyes bored into mine, her face was
|
||
a parody of innocence. Dragonfly wings whirred the question, *why?*
|
||
She approached me slowly, as if trying to gain some sort of
|
||
advantage.
|
||
I continued to retreat into the kitchen, never taking my eyes
|
||
from the creature, reaching slowly back for the utensil drawer.
|
||
Suddenly my foot slipped in raw egg; I felt the floor slide
|
||
underneath me. I was still holding Eden to me as I fell backward;
|
||
my head struck the cabinet with a resounding crack. The world
|
||
dimmed. Eden slipped from my arms and fell to the floor as the
|
||
pain swallowed up my consciousness; I might have passed out but for
|
||
the shrill alarm of her cries. I forced my eyes open and put my
|
||
hand to the back of my head. Blood. Nothing serious, I hoped,
|
||
because I knew I had to kill that thing; I had to kill it now, and
|
||
this was no time to lie unconscious and bleeding on the kitchen
|
||
floor.
|
||
I staggered to my feet, sliding crazily in egg yolk, and
|
||
clutched the counter for balance when a wave of dizziness assaulted
|
||
me. It passed quickly enough for me to reach into a drawer, grab
|
||
a spatula, and make a heroic swing at the damned insect. My attack
|
||
was quick, violent, and took her completely by surprise, but still
|
||
I only managed to strike her on the wing. I knew that a better
|
||
aimed swing would have killed her.
|
||
She trilled her sudden fear and began to effect her escape.
|
||
Her flight seemed a bit off balance, though; she spun around twice
|
||
and nearly slammed into the kitchen doorway on her way out. I
|
||
followed her into the living room, where she bobbed crazily in the
|
||
air like a yo-yo. Her wings produced a shrill, frantic, pleading
|
||
whine that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. She
|
||
couldn't seem to gain altitude; she was begging for mercy.
|
||
"Oh, no." I said viciously, feeling the blood slowly ooze down
|
||
the back of my neck. "You're not getting away this time. I should
|
||
have left you in the goddamned road. You would have taken her,
|
||
wouldn't you?" I swiped at her, just missing. She spun crazily
|
||
toward the stairs, but I followed her.
|
||
"I've thought of what I want," I said to her calmly as I
|
||
climbed the stairs. "I want your sneaking, lying, thieving little
|
||
guts, and I want them all over my brand new spatula. How does that
|
||
sound?"
|
||
Whether because of obligation or shock, her flight faltered
|
||
for a moment, and I took the opportunity to strike her one hard,
|
||
final blow. I heard a sound like shattering glass, and her
|
||
battered body fell to the floor.
|
||
I bent down to look at her. This time there was no pity, no
|
||
horror, only triumph mixed with revulsion. I lifted her broken
|
||
body with the spatula and carried her, like a dead insect, to the
|
||
bathroom. I'd had it with strange and wondrous creatures. I
|
||
tipped the spatula and watched her fall into the swirling water of
|
||
the toilet. With a final gurgling choke, the water washed her out
|
||
of my sight. I shuddered one last time and shakily returned to the
|
||
kitchen to make myself an ice pack. I wasn't sure if I would need
|
||
a doctor or not, but in any case my head was throbbing miserably
|
||
and I was sure it needed attention of some kind.
|
||
Eden, the picture of childlike resilience, had crawled back to
|
||
her piano, seeming not to have noticed her mother's atrocious
|
||
behavior. I stopped to ruffle her soft golden curls on the way to
|
||
the freezer. Plucking ice cubes from the tray and placing them in
|
||
a dishcloth, I began to sing again:
|
||
"Oh shut up, you silly woman
|
||
Said the reptile with a grin
|
||
After all, you knew I was a snake
|
||
Before you took me in!"
|
||
I had gotten halfway through the refrain when I stopped again.
|
||
Surely I hadn't heard it. I froze, my heart pounding, ice melting
|
||
in my hand. There was a profound silence. Then one, two, hesitant
|
||
notes on the piano. Oh.. shut.. up.. you.. silly... woman... the
|
||
piano echoed.
|
||
...said the... reptile with... a... grin...
|
||
The ice cubes slipped from my trembling hand to join the egg
|
||
on the floor.
|
||
...after all... you... knew I... was a... SNAKE
|
||
The note was wrong. It was subsequently corrected.
|
||
...snake...
|
||
I turned my head, slowly, and looked out into the living room.
|
||
...before you took me in!
|
||
I met my daughter's eyes as she looked up from her toy piano.
|
||
The sun shone in her face, making her eyes dilate almost to black,
|
||
and making a halo of her hair. She smiled at me. The world broke
|
||
into pieces.
|
||
"*Music*," she said.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Plastic Dummy
|
||
þ Twilight
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúù
|
||
|
||
a face without a name
|
||
an object without a face
|
||
i am a nobody
|
||
just a plastic dummy
|
||
with no brain
|
||
|
||
fuck you
|
||
i'm not taking your shit
|
||
i'm not just an attachment
|
||
like some arm or leg
|
||
i am a person too
|
||
i have thoughts and dreams like you do
|
||
if you would only give me a chance
|
||
talk to me, get to know me
|
||
you would know that i have hopes too
|
||
|
||
when i cry
|
||
i'm not a water faucet you can't turn off
|
||
but there are reasons and feelings
|
||
inside of me that spark the flow
|
||
|
||
when i pass
|
||
won't you shed a tear for me
|
||
but no, only for the body
|
||
to whom i'm attached
|
||
|
||
some prized possession
|
||
a trophy for show and tell
|
||
yeah, fuck you, ignorant bastard
|
||
condemn what and who you don't know
|
||
instead of opening your eyes
|
||
and discovering the unknown
|
||
|
||
the asinine prick
|
||
the foolish asshole
|
||
you'll forever remain
|
||
as you choose to be blind
|
||
it's just too bad
|
||
that it took me this long
|
||
enduring way too damn much
|
||
for me to finally see the light
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"It's either I suck or I get steroid shots." Ä Courtney Love, regarding
|
||
criticism about her singing.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Plunge
|
||
þ Twilight
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
intrinsic in depth
|
||
weave into bones
|
||
swirl in and outwards
|
||
pounding breaking
|
||
shielding reflecting
|
||
yet still penetrating
|
||
blackness the void
|
||
plunging twisting
|
||
furious gripping
|
||
the throat constricting
|
||
passageways evaporating
|
||
squeezing flexing
|
||
into knots or pretzels
|
||
oozing red in the light
|
||
enveloping swallowing
|
||
reaching for the edge
|
||
slipping screaming
|
||
voice emanating
|
||
then disappearing
|
||
down the hole the drain
|
||
where no light shines
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Stronger Now
|
||
þ Jani Lane
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
I held you for a moment in my hands
|
||
The moment with you slipped away like sand
|
||
Through my fingers now
|
||
In front of me a choice I have to make
|
||
To carry on or simply fade away
|
||
I lose you either way
|
||
I'd like to say that it was easy,
|
||
It was hard
|
||
To say goodbye, I thought that I would die
|
||
|
||
Letting go of you,
|
||
Was so hard to do
|
||
And I thought that it would kill me
|
||
But I made it through somehow,
|
||
And I'm so much stronger now
|
||
|
||
I gave to you my love and my respect
|
||
But I could never make you love me back
|
||
I denied it so
|
||
I grew bitter watching you grow cold
|
||
My life became your prison,
|
||
Took its toll
|
||
I decided like a bird that's trapped
|
||
Inside a gilded cage
|
||
It's right to set it free,
|
||
Hurts to watch it
|
||
Fly away
|
||
|
||
Letting go of you,
|
||
Was so hard to do
|
||
And I thought that it would kill me
|
||
But I made it through somehow,
|
||
And I'm so much stronger now
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"'Rolling Stone' had a new category of rock stars most likely to die within
|
||
the year. Number one was, of course, 'moi'. Number two was Eddie and
|
||
number three Trent. The joke is that all of us would outlive a nuclear
|
||
war." Ä Courtney Love
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Big Hurt
|
||
þ Janet Dowd
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
now I hurt
|
||
as much as I loved then.
|
||
then, had I known this hurt
|
||
that is now -
|
||
I would have kept a little more
|
||
of myself for me -
|
||
how good it is to say:
|
||
I'm leaving you for someone else -
|
||
that someone else is
|
||
me.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"Fuck.
|
||
I hate it when some dork and his girlfriend come to the computer
|
||
lab together and and up making out. Get a fucking room. I like to
|
||
tongue wrestle as much as the next person, but I don't think the
|
||
computer lab is the place to do it. If they start making out again,
|
||
I'm going to throw a major shit fit right here in the lab.
|
||
'Slurp slurp slurp slurp' - the two morons across from me making out."
|
||
Ä Andy
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Great Escape
|
||
þ M.G. and G.E. Nelson
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
(Look up) There's no man on the moon tonight
|
||
Guess he's turned his back on me (once again)
|
||
The wicked walls of this dead-end town are closing in
|
||
and I can't breathe
|
||
(Sail away) Down the river of shattered dreams;
|
||
My destiny's disguised (but I will find it)
|
||
Empty promises flow my way, adrift in shame;
|
||
do you feel the same?
|
||
|
||
Another time, another place, we won't be prisoners of fate
|
||
Somehow, we'll find a way to get out of here
|
||
Oh, why don't we make the great escape
|
||
and set our sights on higher ground?
|
||
We're taking the ride all the way to the other side
|
||
|
||
(Step inside) See the man with the cracked guitar
|
||
Selling tales of sonic gray (the skies are falling)
|
||
No one gathers to sympathize or pay tribute to his fading flame
|
||
Tattoo girl on a butterfly
|
||
Sowing seeds of boundless hope (and devotion)
|
||
Follow me through a leap of faith; I know the way,
|
||
I heard her say
|
||
|
||
Another time, another place, we won't be prisoners of fate
|
||
Somehow, we'll find a way to get out of here
|
||
Oh, why don't we make the great escape
|
||
and set our sights on higher ground?
|
||
We're taking the ride all the way to the other side
|
||
|
||
We've got to make the great escape and
|
||
leave behind what can't be saved
|
||
We're taking the ride all the way to the other side
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"Kurt isn't dead yet; he's in video purgatory, and we watch his beautiful,
|
||
tormented soul splayed across our screens, over and over again until his
|
||
death becomes real." Ä Tom Gogola
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Moon Is Broken
|
||
þ Angel Alice
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
in the night sky she shines
|
||
less brightly than yestereve;
|
||
tonight she is swollen and hurt
|
||
by the ignorance and anger of the people in the
|
||
dirty cities,
|
||
and I notice for the first time,
|
||
a spider-web branch outside my window
|
||
traces a fragile split through
|
||
that silver orb;
|
||
her smiling face is chipped by faraway skyscrapers
|
||
that revolutionize the world,
|
||
and now sits shyly behind the clouds
|
||
like a broken teacup in the back of the cupboard,
|
||
a little faded, a little jaded,
|
||
and all the worsened for the wear:
|
||
the moon is broken,
|
||
it's dark out.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Waltz Eternal
|
||
þ Angel Alice
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
|
||
|
||
the call of the sea drew her to him -
|
||
Diana descended,
|
||
clothed in silver light
|
||
with the seven seas trailing from her ebony hair -
|
||
into the arms of Posiedon;
|
||
his wild waves cascading all around them
|
||
as they waltzed on the ocean
|
||
to the sweet melody of the wind;
|
||
then the chill maiden and the lord of chaos
|
||
lay on the bed of water
|
||
and made beautiful love;
|
||
eternal lovers bound by the laws of Nature -
|
||
the consumation of the marriage between the
|
||
moon and the sea,
|
||
until Posiedon slept,
|
||
and Diana softly slipped over the horizon.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Transformation
|
||
þ Twilight
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
swirling, the mists
|
||
encircling my feet
|
||
weaving through my toes
|
||
bringing me to my knees
|
||
tongues, they lick
|
||
with lingering resi-dew
|
||
the hasty wetness
|
||
fills the desperate lungs
|
||
choking out the pungent air
|
||
making me become one
|
||
with the haze, the fog
|
||
the cloudy surroundings
|
||
thick humid sweat
|
||
dripping, soaking, gasping
|
||
merciless, it reeks
|
||
and i hunch down, back arched
|
||
transform, re-breathe
|
||
and emerge, up again
|
||
into the mists, i dance about
|
||
frolicking, playing
|
||
twisting and turning
|
||
swimming upon air currents
|
||
as i laugh the dolphin laugh
|
||
amidst the pixie dust
|
||
and the faerie glitter.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Untitled
|
||
þ Autumn
|
||
ùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
Like a wilted flower
|
||
longing for the touch
|
||
of a driving rain
|
||
I stand, weary,
|
||
arms crossed
|
||
waiting
|
||
for you.
|
||
Like an adrenaline addict
|
||
desiring the rush
|
||
of another close call
|
||
I pause,
|
||
glancing at my watch,
|
||
waiting,
|
||
for you.
|
||
Like a lost lover,
|
||
knowing the emotion,
|
||
but feeling only pain,
|
||
I close my eyes,
|
||
shivering inside
|
||
waiting,
|
||
for you.
|
||
Like an ungiven kiss,
|
||
fluttering in the heart
|
||
of my sweetest desire
|
||
I burn untended,
|
||
waiting,
|
||
waiting
|
||
for you.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
We'll Always Have Tomorrow
|
||
þ Stephen Lush
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
|
||
|
||
we'll always have tomorrow
|
||
but we had today
|
||
what were we thinking
|
||
its not all right but its not all wrong
|
||
tip toe past the guards
|
||
enter the king's court
|
||
be the rulers for one moment
|
||
as if we never had control
|
||
look at me
|
||
aren't I close enough to you?
|
||
where are our times
|
||
are they ahead or did I miss them?
|
||
I don't know but I sure am sad
|
||
lost in the moment would be so nice
|
||
lost in the moment for just one night
|
||
lost in the moment is best
|
||
over alarm clocks,
|
||
I choose the voice that feels at rest
|
||
slow me down to sleep
|
||
I feel closer to you
|
||
is that fine?
|
||
some moments to not care about
|
||
the plight with time
|
||
look at me.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
"Those are my public service announcements: wear a condom and make up with
|
||
your enemies." Ä Courtney Love
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
ßÜ
|
||
ÜßÜÝÜßÜ
|
||
ßÜÞÜß Ü Ü Üß
|
||
Ü ÜßÜ ÝÜßÜß ÜßÜßÜ
|
||
ßÜßÜ ÜßÜßÞÜß ÜßÜ Ü ßÜÜßÜß
|
||
ßÜßÜÜß Ü ßÜßÜÝÜßÜß ÜßÜ ßÜ ßÜ ß
|
||
ßÜßÜß Üß Ü Ü ßÜÝÜß Üß ÜßÜ ßÜÜßÜßÜ
|
||
Üßßß Üß Û Ü ÜßßÜÞ ÜßÜß Ü ßÜßÜÜ ßÜß
|
||
Üß ßÜÜß Üß Ü ßßÜßÝßÜß ÜÜ ßÜßßÜ ß
|
||
Üß ÜßßÜÜß ÜßßÜ ßÝß ÜßÜ ßÜßßÜ ß
|
||
Üß ÜßßßÝÜß ÜÜßÜÞÜßÜß ÛÞßßÜ ß
|
||
ß ÜÜßÜßÜß ÜßÜÞÜß ÜßÜÝßÜÜß
|
||
Ü Üßßßß ßÜßÝÜßÜÜßÜß Ü Ü
|
||
Ü Ü ßÜ ßÜ ßÜßßßÜÜßÝÜÛßÜßÜÜß Üß Üß Üß
|
||
Ü ßÜßÜ ßÜÜßÜßÜßÜßÜßÜÜÛÛÛÜßßÜßÜßÜßßßÜÜß ÜßÜß
|
||
ßÜßÜßÜßÜßßÜ ßÜ ßÜßÜß ß Ý ß ßÜ ßÜßÜ ßÜßÜßÜßßÜ
|
||
ÜßßÜßÜ ßÜßÜ ßÜ ß Þ ß ß ß ß ß
|
||
Ý
|
||
Ý
|
||
Þ
|
||
ß
|
||
|
||
Legalize.
|
||
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
|
||
Submit your original literary works for Spilled Ink, [volume six], to
|
||
Twilight via Internet e-mail:
|
||
twilight@mail.utexas.edu
|
||
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
|