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Blasphemic self-image
9:25 p.m. 2005-03-16

Your lullaby as you bring me to my knees and I want to hear you say you'll leave it broken. Shatter the glass on the stairway and play a game full of catatonia and rememberance. Your ashes at my feet as the world that I loved spirits all of this away. YOur finger on the trigger and i'm longing for a change. This just feels old and there's nothing to say.
Remember when we sat on the bus and the snow outside was something so foreign? I miss the feel of your fingers on my leg and the smell of your hair. Remember the walks full of mystery and perfection? i miss showing you off and the way you smiled. I miss cigarettes and alcohol. I miss the talks and the tears and our blatant attempts at tragedy. I miss photographs and the sight of you sleeping. Tell me dear, do you remember the first picture i took of you? I remember embarrassment and discovery and anxious fear. I remember the way your love scared the hell out of me. I remember the way you taste and I miss the way i felt after kissing you. I remember so much, so many tiny insignificant events and gestures that incapsulate you in a perfect frame. I miss the girl I used to love. But I don't miss you.
Your pictures up for everyone to see, an attempt at beauty and elegance through mystery and black and white shots. Your fucking stillframes, I look at you and I see how hard you're trying to be a work of art. Just so you know, I hate it and you have been nothing but disappointing. Not that it matters
A litany of contingencies that lead to master plans and the backdrop of skyscrapers overlooking a perfect flight. Transient posture as the doorframes crumble and the warnings tumble over airwaves. Your fucking words, and your fucking static. Stop trying to save face and we're all hypocritical broken human beings prone to instinct and mindlessness. And I want you to paint a perfect picture, something gorgeous and I want to be in your mind the whole time. I want nothing less from you. Liar

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words @ jake, layout @ kelly