Wednesday 6/14/2006 10:16:00 PM

I'll tell you why it's over. Because it is.

Because my tongue tastes like expired xanax and the answer to every question I compulsively ask myself is no. Not yet.

I'll tell you I'm over only when it's the truth. The pungent gaff of your wisdom nearly sobers me up.

The dog on its hind legs may stand, but it's only steady on all fours. Just once for me, fall down. Admit you're not entirely independent.

You're not what you tell me you are. You're what I'm left with when gravity wins.

It's over because it never really started. Broken pistol began the race. Missing line was the finish.

It's over because I say it is. Since you were never kind enough to say it for me.

My heart. Even for free you wouldn't take it. And I can't decide if that makes you a good man.

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