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Saturday, March 08, 2008'♥

//look who's not here.//

i find it always easier to appear offline on messenger and simply just pick up a book to read.
but somehow the screen will always be blaring, retaliating,right in the corner of my eyes, protesting aloud my denial of the dwindling strands of connectivity left to my social life.

it has been too long, and i do not like to conversate awkwardness nor silence.
but believe me, i do want to hear your story , a story of just you, not a impersonation, not a side that i havent heard of, nor seen of.
that story will breathe the remnants of what i remembered of you, and maybe then, i will tell you, a story of me too.

these books are like old friends.they never probe, but share the same woes beneath the tireless smiles and their dog eared pages.

i lose myself easier in my reads.
i listen to the silence of the night and the faint stirs of train engines elsewhere.
but i will hear noone.

11:46 PM








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eloera jesusa woon.

she paints skins of whom she has never known, and may never be.
she fortifies , she preserves - of what time has taken.
she dances in the silvers of her moonlight ,
with this cacophany of noises,with these falsities -they lead her hand. //

the facades that she hide behind, the facets of her life.she is but the master of puppetry.

-


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