Your name falls from the page,
a scrap of memory pulled from time,
nearly distorted with displacement
but not so old yet as to be forgotten.

Every curve and pull of letter
etched along sand-grain lines,
both faded with the care of tentative pen
or embossed in heavy fervor:

They reveal such
tightly boxed thoughts which
pour out like smoke and fog.

They boil into something more concrete –
tears heavy with salt,
or blood coagulated cold and thick
and darker than the ink which holds my thoughts.

Think I'm still using too many cliches in my writing and as always a crap juvenile ending.

writing, writing.

my goal is to have it finished by christmas. then get someone to edit.

FICTICIOUS POST.

-snip-

This.

http://movies.msn.com/movies/article.aspx?news=415257

Hollywood would never make a movie about us.




I remembered that I love to read. I go through two books a day. Tim says it isn't worth it for me to actually buy them because I read too fast. I like to own books, though. I like to be able to re-read them whenever I want to to be able to highlight things and crease pages and not worry if the spine gets too bent. I like being able to steal ideas and warp them. I remembered that in order for me to write, I have to read as well.