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Thursday, September 17, 2009

Let me tell you about my paranoia.
Let me tell you about how i am forever sick with grief, sick with worry that the sheep will swallow the rose under my watchful eye
because i cannot protect it.
i wish i could use a glass jar, a place i could make safe, but the rule is that i cannot and the rose is doomed to die.
Let me describe to you a heart attack.
Let me describe to you the sudden spasm that knocks the wind out of your lungs and squeezes the blood into your head,
the fire at the back of your eyeballs.
it creeps up behind you and stabs- till your face is contorted into a demonic mess.
i wish i knew how to resuscitate, poor strangled heart, but the truth is that i never had a heart attack.
Let me tell you about how everything is unsettling, how the ground sometimes roll up like a carpet enfolding me in, how the stars whisper your name....
Let me tell you about my paranoia.
Let me take you there.

she's not here @

9:55 PM