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the bitch
There's nothing interesting about me, except the fact that I really should stop switching blogs.
bitch de nuit
Another pretentious way of saying "Bitch, please."
clickme
Sunday, September 28, 2008
When the shit hits the fan..
..and your world trembles every waking moment; your tears duct never seem to run dry, you find your mind running after all the happy thoughts your heart can muster - but the chase appears to be in vain when the next tear trickle, after the other, and the other, and the other.
The irony is beyond me - the fact that the only time the excruciating pain stops being excruciating is when I see your smile spread across the same pair of beautiful lips I've missed kissing so badly; when I hear your laughter and I see a reason to hang on to the edge of a cliff you have pushed me towards.
The moment after finds me hanging on to a monotonous dial tone, the plug yanked and my heart stops being deeply sedated by your presence. The hurt rolls back - in chaotic waves of turbulence - and I find my heart greatly amplified, its veins pumping in erratic rhythms and the emotions crashing helter-skelter.
The loneliness creeps in - like a vicious agenda - and swallows me. My heart is ravaged and I feel so disgustingly alone, the understanding that, your heart has stopped beating for me and that mine can never tread the same treachery yours committed, slowly tearing me apart.
The pain is slowly shaving the bits of me that makes me away, and I'm encased behind a bulletproof window, witness be my only role. I scream for it to stop, my arms thrashing a fence that was made to hurt but never break. The figure brooding before my heart edges towards familiarity and like I always suspected...
...there you were.
2 anal amy
