Friday, April 14, 2006

Like a little boat, from match sticks, rocking left and right smack in the middle of the storm. Its fun, sometimes my head is upside down: I don’t like that, it makes me sick in the stomach, and I have always been scared of being with the head upside down. But then, it’s good, I like being thrown upside down sometimes, only if I know you’ll be there to catch me when I fall down.

I am in my little bordello, finally, it’s my own bordello that I like and can stay in. The truth is that so much of that bordello is related to you; funny I rather be in your bordello than mine.

Little by little, there is more and more of yours that I like better than mine. Mine is kind of gone.

Again you kicked me upside down, and I am writing you instead of talking to you. It’s so much easier to write to you.

Why do I talk like an idiot when I talk to you? I am scared, and that I have come to doubt the foundations of what makes me me and what I believe in.

Will you ever come to understand me?

I am in my bordello, at my age, somewhere where I never thought I would be. I’ve never made plans for anything, and that’s a good plan.

Fuck this sucks, I suck. I just wanted to tell you that your face is like the sun and that I --------.

There is no need for more; everything for me goes from there.

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