16.Nov.2004

things change.

--

glove

These are just memories of a past the adult me attempts to subdue in designer skirts.

But I'm sure I'm still the same five-year-old girlene with a chip on her shoulder.

My parents are dying; a new decade dawns. One must carry the helm; one must embrace change. The hours drain into the back of our throats when we're out at trendy bars; we want to think we're different than our hearts allowed when we were thirteen.

The point is that I drive circles around my old neighborhood when others allow it.

The truth is that I'm here still waiting.

So let this go; let them wither. Go be a bride to him in the long run and kiss his eyelids when he's ranting in the subconscious.

The ice is getting thin.

There is so much I miss; there is so much I want for myself.

--

time & machine