Friday, April 27, 2007


A slight breeze. The shutters flutter momentarily, leaking sunlight into the room. I catch a glimpse of cerulean sky. There's nothing here but the clock ticking and me waiting for the day to die. All I feel are the contours of the hours. In a moment this calmness will be unbearably vacuous and insipid. My heavy-lidded passivity will evaporate in the warmth of some emanating ardency. A little while more and I'll have to peruse, pursue, my desires - the only helplessness I enjoy.

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