The musings of a self-proclaimed rat.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

January 17: Somber Sunday.

Melancholy, beaten
- barren.
Thoughtful, intent
- numb.
Exposure, explicit
- done.

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A sea of faces,
A wave of familiarity,
A tone of comfort,
A touch of solace,
A room of nobodies.

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What's the extreme? What's the passion? Where is the drawing down of the barriers going to lead? If the I open the flood gates during a dry spell, what happens if it rains? Can I handle the deluge, can I be passionate, can I be pained, can I love, without being loved?

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