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9:46 p.m. 2005-03-01

Your bloodshot eyes and my finger on the trigger as these cliches provoke your heart to break and your mind to project images. Please oh please won't you just stop hoping already? Listening to your mixtape was the saddest thing I'll ever do and if I can survive that then you can never kill me. And I love that we had that, i love that we had those words. But that's all it is now. Because I love the songs and they force these memories that are just fucking perfect, and they're beautiful, but none of this is. You used to be my joy and now all you do is hurt me, unintentionally to be sure, and all that this ever causes is pain and we can't even fucking talk. This isn't perfect this isn't breathtaking this isn't anything at all and I don't love it... but i'm not going to forget and I know that if the words are shared then someday i'll relive this.
A reaffirmation of dangerous faith as your catastrophe leaves you broken out in the rain under my window. A silent prayer as the hands bound together are clasped gently by a lover doomed to die by your side. And why can't things just turn out right why can't we be happy? Its a false hope that provides for the ataxia bringing you closer to death as paralysis is becoming a sureity

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words @ jake, layout @ kelly