n: vb: the spice of imagination
It is not new news that I won a cake from True Confections. Originally I was planning on sharing it with everyone this Saturday, the 26th, but it might be that too many people are otherwise booked. Rather than set my plan, I’m giving it to the majority. No matter what day is chosen, this will be a late evening get-together.
edit: would you please comment to say who’s voted?
I hate being justified. It ruins me more every time. There’s a dance to interaction, a gliding movement which swirls to include even the most clumsy social graces. Rhythm metered conversation, quick wit feet making love to common understanding. It might be the the closest thing I have to a hobby but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I tear observations unborn from truth and sometimes it’s just not pretty.
It has been days. I have received no word but a broken promise. Silence. Invitation revoked, last night Judas kissed me and silver fell from my mind.
I have learned to have a limit. A heart line drawn in lonely sand with a sword. It does not matter anymore if I crave someone from fingertip to deepest spark of thought, I’ve learned that I must make myself matter. This cannot be passed again. Certain creatures of thought and emotion are easy to mold, but hard to create. Their birth is an effort, a screaming violent expulsion.
Tomorrow Gavin arrives and we leave the city together.
It’s four a.m. and the last of the poets just left for bed. I should be crawling into mine but some compulsion instead leads me to the keyboard to tap.
I had a rather spectacular crash a few days ago and it wiped out about half of my address book. It would be a kindness if you were to drop me a line or text me a message on msn. (hotmail : bloodkrystal).