Friday, July 23, 2010
for hub VII/ Black
My dear. I wish I could be where you ask me to be. I wish things were simple once again, like back then, when I cried for no reason, you know. The trouble is, my darling boy, I've been aching, my heart has been fighting. And I'm tired, you see. So tired, I felt like a man. I sit comfortably above the (sea) city, but I couldn't figure stuff out. I couldn't figure out the position of her arm. And so I miscalculated. Was she moving or just laying? (on top of him). Either way I was mad, I flicked my cigarette heavily. People think she is a hero. I wish I could be a hero, sometimes. I mean, wtf anyway, you know? Maybe when I grow up, I'll know better than to tamper with hearts that aren't mine. Maybe when I'm older some day I'll learn not to let bugs bite me. Because these things are in my control. Things are what they are, but they also become what I want them to be. It's all about skewed perception, dear. I'm sorry I was hard on you by letting you be hard on me. I'm collecting all the people I love to sing me a song.