A Black Feather, A poison pen...

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eyes all fire

I've never had the urge to relapse as badly as this since the first few weeks after i first kicked.


I find myself, emotionally, back where i was 16 years ago, half a life past


i've gone full circle


except for the fact that now i'm comparatively old and battle-scarred from the various incidents i've gotten myself into and out of, suddenly i'm the timid, pathologically shy wallflower again...


and just like the day after that august afternoon 16 years ago when i admitted what was on my mind and in my heart to Elisa and she decided that whatever we had as friends did not mean that i deserved to spared an the discomfort of having to know how the other guy kissed her, so here i am, a beast up old wreck of a man who, in spite of what this latest one may have told me, apparently sometimes i don't deserve to be spared a more explicit variety of detail than just someone's kisses.


some bits of knowledge have turned some of my favourite songs into the ind of taunts that have forced me to box up or sell some of the CD's that have been integral pieces of my experience


am i supposed to feel guilty for being upset that all of the evidence seems to point to my never having really been anything more than a goddamn transitional device at best?

5:07 p.m. - 2004-12-09

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a jump to the left - a step to teh right