Friday, July 22, 2005

distrust, and the trappings of a modern man.

Euphemize my life, its what I’ve always done. Things aren't so bad.
so bad.

melodrama takes over, and the trappings of youthful disillusionment fade into adult incompetence. bound by English.
bound by grammatical syntax. i am no artist, and even words fall limp in my lap.
grammatical impotence?

enough of the phallic references.

I’ve been thinking.
I’ve been thinking.

Everyone wants so desperately to believe, or have someone believe they are special. we all want someone, almost anyone to recognize the talent we wish we had.
We want someone to see something in us that no one else does.
But, we do. We knew it was there all along, we've all cultivated some facet of our individuality so as to prompt praise and appreciation. we want to be known.

Even the most independent of us wants to be known.
If we could choose what we were to be known for, what would it be?

I think I want to be everything.

what's another word for empty?

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