chore dries&hardens and all those ages you turned without me, they mean nothing because in the only language that matters, 'your birthday' means something else my moment of epiphany succinctly matched yours only they were stark opposites that left me wondering why mine didn't come soon enough to cancel yours when you left i stopped knowing what i wanted, so when i wished, all i could wish for was 'the best' every eyelash, star, flame, and penny until you came back but i'm not so scared yet about how it might end, only that i've imagined that it ever began i'm not sure if i could shake the notion that this isn't- that i'm living a grandiose dream sequence of the fruition of every moment i've wanted enough to will into existence after i'd tried reducing myself to a blank us to schematized a lie and you to a fraud which wasn't until after i forced myself to come to terms with the fact that you were gone and after the initial sting wore off and all i wanted was a vacuum of space and time devoid of a relationship serious enough to duplicate that feeling that vicious deadpan feeling that leaves only one desire that desire that lacks desire, excepting the longing just to be able to go through the motions of life with some kind of normalcy so i built my life around little things things so little their prior existence would have been menial, trivial, vacuous and i aggrandized them enough to create a means of forgetting because i had no choice but to forget the entity that comprised my now forgotten life i buried everything to leave myself an absolute nothing where i could start from and now i'm left with this torrent of emotions that i can hardly restrain being without you is a chore and now i feel so different i think it's written on my face like i'm somehow so substantiated that i'm bursting at the seams i want a million things for you- as many things as you could ever want but for myself, i could only ever want what wishing handed me 060226 ... sirflaccid There are things in this world that just connects. This is one of those things. 060314 what's it to you? who go blather from