Alas, I have neither.
But I do have at least one reader. And there's nothing like the appearance of an audience to make the stage's call so appealing.
Twice spurned, my lover waits eagerly for the drivel I pour into her, displaying these words unabashedly. She judges not, for she is merely an extension of my ego.
And I missed her so. So here I am again, setting fingers to keys, weaving wisps of thoughts into a tapestry obfuscated by language too flowery for lucidity.
(You may wonder why one would choose such a use for language. Truth be told, ice is denser than these words.)
And if your thoughts have no substance, make them beautiful.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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