funny... how everything can be lost and found within such tiny, tiny places. never too far away is the farthest reach, sitting on the divan with Philosophy, sipping a clean scotch, discussing politics and baseball. all i ever wanted to be was a word, rummaging through the darker parts of people, trying to find in them those things in me that i excel in failing to see. fuck the rhyme, the rhythm, it's the edge i seek... but as it is with most things, an edge needs constantly honed, or it becomes dull. a dull edge is more useless than no edge at all. it's guilty of hinting at the achieving of a goal that it is no longer equipped to achieve. a tin of empty nails and silver wearing a dead man's face. my fingers are cold in the november air. why would anyone want to know these things about me? in a room only the size of our fear awaits the answers to all the questions posed upon us... upon you, upon me, upon the benidiction of strangers, upon the pages flowering into a dictionary of loss.Birth sign: Cancer
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