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.

Friday, August 10, 2007

You fueled my desire
You gave the spin to a life that couldn’t start until it found you
Ignored for the better part
Of a plan that was up to par but not quite to my own values
Engine that fires my heart

I tried to complain to him about the fact that I couldn’t find you

(And I couldn't find you)

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