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Translucent, threatening to smash itself (idea)
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(
idea
)
by
junkpile
Wed May 02 2001 at 2:34:04
I am surprised when they, friends, are so
callous
to Brandon. say things like, Well that's interesting coming from a guy who's never had a girlfriend. He takes it, these comments are not new. His face does not do anything.
It is just a face it tells them nothing
, I see him doing it.
He is so quiet all the time and there is a difference
between shy and sad
. Led into conversation, he does it well.
You might never know anything was devouring him
, if not for the constant flickers of gratitude. and Ha ha Brandon doesn't have a girlfriend.
Didn't we stop making fun
of people for being lonely a long time ago? high school? Back when not having a partner was just one more on the list of things people could make fun of you for. It wasn't a way of life. It wasn't a sentence a prediction or your doom writen down unchangeable. It was a current event that seemed like a good thing to pick on.
you look unloved
, that's one more dork point. We were lonely in high school; who wasn't? We are lonely now. We are lonely today. You are reading it and knowing it. Aren't we tired of pointing it out.
I would like to go back in time. I would like to fly across this city and grab Brandon by the collar. I would
grab my 15-year-old self by the throat
. I would say to us, You have got to be kidding me. You have no idea how much more of this is waiting for you. I would say,
Amateur.
I make tiny hopeful promises to myself
Still and humming and glaringly dull
My real life, burst into the proper colors
The World I Made for Her
I remember when it was me who made her skin flush
You make yourself lonely even though you don't have to
A Flirtation with Flirting
transparent terminal emulator
Sound between thunder and lightning
I will marry only he who defeats me in battle
Snowboards with vibrators
The perfect woman
brilliant simplicity of translucent roofs on delivery trucks, the
All that was left of her was a damp handkerchief
Dream Log: August 31, 2000
Turkey Hash
Ride Forth
Iris Murdoch is dead. Hold my hand. It's your turn now.
a constant, low wind trembles through him, catching his words and sending them out into the world
I don't even have the energy to kill myself
you can lower your standards, or your pants, but you can't make them love you
Our lives and these empty spaces aside
Guided at night by factory lights