Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
The way there are no clocks in casinos and whenever you walk into one, the people in there are the people who shouldn't be in there.
The way supermarket aisles are designed to be confusing and no one in their right mind would put laundry detergent next to dog food.
The way economy class seats on an airplane could easily be more comfortable but they want you to pay to upgrade to first class.
The way everything you buy is designed to break so that soon, you'll have to buy a new one.
The way the whole world tries everything in its power to break you too.
The way you refuse, under any circumstances, to show the slightest crack.
Written by Me at 11:30 PM
Monday, February 8, 2010
Outside the station, she stands with her child on the side of the street, taking pictures of cars.
You think she's insane. Until, one day, you notice that she's taking pictures of the license plates of the cars her child gets into.
Because you look. But you do not see.
And she walks out the shop with bags full of cat food. You think she's some crazy cat lady until you find out, she has no cats.
Because you eat. But you do not taste.
It's been a while since their last album but he assures you, he's doing just fine these days, white flecks in his nostrils. Then he asks you if he can spend the night on your couch, even though it stinks.
Because you sniff. But you do not smell.
And they say "Just OK" when you ask them how school was. Then you wonder what they're hiding until you find their diary and the last entry reads "I wish you'd give me some privacy."
Because you listen. But you do not hear.
And they've got a bruise over their eye and you run the tips of your fingers over it and ask them how it happened. You believe them. Until it happens again.
Because you touch. But you do not feel.
And they walk past you everyday, one million stories, each waiting to be told. Waiting for you to ask.
Because you live. But very few, love.
Written by Me at 12:10 AM
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Maybe you don't know them like I do. Maybe it's vengeance and maybe it's love.
Maybe they're smiling at other people the way they used to smile at me.
Maybe they've grown tired of drinking light like water, late at night.
Or Maybe, they're just tired. You don't know them like I do.
Written by Me at 11:47 PM