Writing is not cathartic, even though its feeling of release is present; it is not enlightening, however, it provokes critical thinking; it is not, above all, entertaining, nonetheless it transports you. I write in order to rationalize interiority, to catch emic experiences with a net. Everything, however, revolves and remains inside.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Games (i)

Games? I love them.
The time I’ve spent playing them...
! Oh yes another eye-contact intense !
Have my number
Call me call yooou at what time
I’ll be there
No, don’t, you don’t have to but why is he not returning my text
where is he? I need, need, want, all for myself
eyes, focus! on.me.
? I wish I’d cracked open ?
Cherubically, oh yes, I dare you (to)
Lay down the rifle.
Drop the knife.
Us to die, indefinitely.

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