Devious Journal Entry- Chuck Palahniuk, 'Lullaby'
My Only LoverIt's not a back alley and I'm not wearing just a trench coat but this is snaking around me like smoke, like cigarette smoke from parted lips; I can feel your fire.My Only Lover
I've been here before but we've exchanged places and suddenly my breath catches, snagged in my throat (you always said I smoked too much). Except you're not here, it's someone else but I can't stop, not anymore;
that song is playing in my veins, I don't care,
this is what I've died for. Remember?
And I will empty myself until I
It Was EverythingWe spent our days, our nights, our everything together, talking. There was so much to discuss, so much to plan, even six hours were not long enough. "This is important," I'd say or you'd say (we shared a mind, it seemed like), "This is life-altering."It Was Everything
Come back to me, come back to me.
HalfThese apron strings tied around my wrists are stained, burned, frayed: I am not the first.Half
"I will not make those mistakes," I had said, "I am not that stupid." The first mistake of many.
We are, all of us, bruised by our naiveness, destroyed by our arrogance.
Our minds were churches once, we would sit, complete in ourselves. Now, all that's left: a statue,
crumbling under graffitti, spat on.
And we allowed it.
Sometimes Giants Aren'tI wanted to be as big as the smallest person; thumb-sized but without wings, thank you -- don't want no one thinking I'm some sort of bug with a stinger because they'd make a short person's life even shorter.Sometimes Giants Aren't
Like Thumbelina, I wished you could buy me as a seed, plant me in some out of the way corner with a nice window view of the ocean, of the mountains, of the valley, or maybe just a nice garden.
I'd crawl out of the flower, pollen in my hair, in my nose, all over me like dirt, and you'd say, "Isn't opium made from that?"
I wanted to talk to ants, crawl t
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Don't tell me what the !poets are doin'...
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Resistance is futile.
Happy Christmas
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dopamiine.
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Before an important decision someone clutches your hand--a glimpse of gold in the iron-gray, the proof of all you have never dared to believe.
(Dag Hammarskjold)
I think I'm in love with your gallery.
o_o'
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