Feb 8, 2006

One for the Three


This isn't my journal, it's my, can't stop myself. No one here isn't hurting some. From then, or now, or one or the other; and I won't even go into the futures missing fingernails. I wish I could lay my hand on your belly, and take all the wrongs from within, and in counterclockwise rubs, erase them. To give you a sigh like a cry that could help you breath again, one of the 100 different sighs we have; but I only give out the good and the bad, never the one that stops the clock of worry. I don't even know how to say it or what "it" is, I only know it exists(like a black hole) because of its gravity; that and the pull we push against.

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