La Mulatta Tragique | |
goners
09:20, Tuesday, November 20, 2007
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I've pushed so many off the cliff, and there goes another one. I think maybe this one, this one will be lighter than the air, and when I push him back over the edge he won't fall, but remain standing, staring at me, with his arms shrugging, asking "what now"? Then I could jump in his arms and tell him to take me with him, because I would never worry about falling ever again.But they back up when I push them, and once their feet clear the edge they all disappear. They ravine is so deep I cannot even see them at the bottom or hear them when they go. And I have no one to talk to but the open air that carries my words away. ![]() Who needs a man? Gimme a lemming. I was always overly sensitive to animals, and couldn't understand how other children could ever burn an ant with a magnifying glass or pull it's legs off. But now, in my womanhood, I almost survive on performing equivocal acts on men, and then wonder why they shriek and run away from me or growl and attack. And then I'm left crying and stamping my feet in a tantrum because my puppy ran away. And my metaphor is mixed. Wah. ![]() Bastard kid. Ok, time for the metaphor-madness to end. Leave a Comment { Last Page } { Page 7 of 25 } { Next Page } |
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