jorge luis borges Writings of light assault the darkness, more prodigious than meteors.
The tall unknowable city takes over the countryside.
Sure of my life and my death, I observe the ambitious and would like to understand them.
Their day is greedy as a lariat in the air.
Their night is a rest from the rage within steel, quick to attack.
They speak of humanity.
My humanity is feeling we are all voices of the same poverty.
They speak of homeland.
My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword,
the willow grove's visible prayer as evening falls.
Time is living me.
More silent than my shadow, I pass through the loftiliy covetous multitude.
They are indispensable, singular, worthy of tomorrow.
My name is someone and anyone.
I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away, he doesn't expect to arrive.
witchesrequiem How I babble.
Then you go fuck a ranting, annoying whore?
minnesota_chris ok, deal. 040507
Ghijk No!
I'm not gonna!
I simply refuse!
Boasting about how wonderfully
wonderfully quiet I can be
is not something I'm going to do.
I may be way more quiet than you,
but I'm not going to rub it in your face
because you already know
and if you don't know
you'd better watch out
because I'm not going to brag,
about how totally wuuunderful I am
when it comes to quietness
and simple refrain
what's it to you?
who go