[03 Apr 2005|03:49am]   oeuvre_ cause i wanted to

[09 Mar 2005|11:52pm] what the fuck do you think this is, palazzo?

"I wish I was as strong as you when I was 15" [27 Feb 2005|10:16pm] Primitive collisions happen as often as I say I love you. My neck has grown weary of my mind and I collapse onto your chest the same way I did 15 years ago. Extracting the sap of everything you sacrificed to be presented with a veiled child leaching off your chest; burrowing for your heart. "Pish keshet...". You used to live in the stars and dream of ancient bones and contemporary romance with traditional (socially validated) rituals in your sister's hand-made patchworked clothing. I'll bet every crease that has ever settled itself onto your face that when you rock me back and forth in the fetal position, our entire past, present and future resonate off the walls harmoniously. We may ricochet from divergent walls but I swear my world will always nestle back into your dominion: your arms.

"I want you so bad" "why?" "cause youre sexy and nice" "the fuck?" [31 Jan 2005|04:35pm] Arms extended forward like a snake's tongue except half as sensorial. Fumbling for objects. You trip over your own ingrown feet as you (subconsciously) stumble onward. The ground you leave behind resentfully shows to be quicksand, for you leave inconsistent and therefore bitter traces on ground without the slightest purpose. You seem to hold the consequences of time and the responsibilities of the present to no significance. Perhaps you, too, are a valid candidate for commercial principles such as "do what you want, when you want". You are just about desperate enough to cherish anything that seems partially solid infront of you. Blurry vision and premature mind; giving oneself too much credit for thinking you know what solid is. In hopes of salvation, in search of a person or habit that will prove to be the antithesis of your lonely nightmares. I'm in peripheral but you fail to realize that it is the result of your weaknesses that causes you to fall just an arm's length short of me. Hands at my side; I can compromise and smile to make your stay a little more pleasant. It's a shame prose doesn't come as easily to me as manipulating the mind of a 16 year old male. Sixteen month old girls can be considered less gullible.

btb4l. [21 Jan 2005|01:19pm] For a very short time, you'd be glad to know I panicked when I realized the fire was going to be short-lived. I even struggled to keep it alive. But the wick was barely visible and the wax no longer held the scent of your room. So when the candle that you gave me to mark our 'initial, infintile beginning' burnt out, I like to think we did too. (and quite honestly, the dollar store lily-scented immitations that my mother likes to buy dont quite do it for me anymore. fuck, call me picky.) ( Misan 'Mimi' Nikagbatse ) Let us conclude my Italian love affair with a: Cheers- to the eternal place in my heart for the way you annunciated every syllable in my name (just to please me). Thanks for allowing me to be the epitome of Golnar when I ended it. Thanks for letting me know you, and for letting me see you cry. Basically, thanks for helping me grow. But most importantly, thank you for genuinly being/ a guy who simply adored my complexities (however unattractive, at times)- without ever putting to question or doubting its authenticity. PS- The system of a candle is 100% self-destructive. It's as if it melts the wax just to drown in it. Yes, we will leave this suicidal theory where it belongs-in the flaming candle holder. No, we will not relate the self-destructive nature of it to the rest of the free fucking world. Some things aren't meant to be metaphors.

Mimi: BTB4L. [08 Nov 2004|08:12pm] When we touch I want it to be magic. I want us to search for a comfort zone in places that arent so comfortable. When we kiss our lips should brush and rub against eachother but to never really settle down. I want perpetuating tongue play. Lieing down and I want to feel degenerate. Take over, for once. I want to put my hands on top of yours and follow them across the crevices of my body. I want to grab and feel and get caught up. I think you're irreplacable. I want low incoherent mutters, gentle movements, nasty intentions. I cut Nick's hair today. He looks like a preppy school boy with an out-of-place jewish curl.

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