Saturday, 7 June 2008


the hat's gone. I'd completely forgotten about it, till today. I wish the word would bleed into this world from the very core. All so I may grow numb to this.

I don't know what I'm keeping, and what I'm throwing away. But arbitrary decisions are being made as we speak. Regret it or not later, I'm doing one or the other.

This vacuum grows in strength, unrelenting, unabated. You thrust the dagger deep inside you, and once your claret congeals, you inflict your virus upon others. If stab me you must, do it to my face; not my back. Do it, so I see whether your tears and your regret is marked with your bloody taint. Or whether you weep for angels and their admirers while you smile for your demons and their desires.

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