Saturday 2/10/2007 11:01:00 PM

the virgin galloped in her popcorn dress. salted like the air is when the wind is fierce. tiny explosions blossoming in every her every limp. feet detached. Skeletons on top of skin. the child meted her stories carefully. as to keep the world from noticing. she'd made them all up. for selfish reasons.

to give the void a chance to grow back. and make the world insignificant. like it had been before this.

he always thought i was different. but i was the same as anyone. just more aware of what it meant.

to be ordinary.

1 comments:
De.vile said...

You are what you make others believe you are. So Maybe, you are extraordinary.



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