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aboywholovedblue
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Birthday: 7/25/1985
Gender: Male


Interests: Cities. Fun people. Wine. Adventures. Avoiding public transportation. Gentlemen. Nouveau-80's-dance-synth-pop. Lamps defeating overhead lighting. Text messages. Rum & Coke. Pretending to like retail. Wit--'tis the shit. & more.
Expertise: what? what does this mean?


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AIM: aboywholovedblue


Member Since: 2/12/2006

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Monday, July 17, 2006

hawks never fared well in the midst of those prairie fires.

there's no way to know, nope.
and no way to prepare

slight lady fate shows you the view (how pretty!)
and leaves you up there.




bring a sweater
leave your phone, at home.
you can jump, you can fall.
in the end, there's no one to call on.
but you.


Saturday, July 08, 2006

what of it

tears are the shade of a cheap, white wine
i don't have the heart, and i don't want the time

if you want to fall in love, then you better take a number
it's an ocean full of doubt that's bound to pull you under

and i can't understand what i see in your eyes
it's an untrue color that only defies
my common sense, my rationale
my whole fucking grasp of the here and now


Friday, May 26, 2006

come to the coffee shop
where you can explain the world
or have the world explained.

play a game and sip some tea.
write an entry on your online journal.
watch the crazy in purple bother strangers.
note her dragon ring.

let the music skip and blend into the wall.
damn this tea is good.
and people talk of crimes.
he will solve them. she will try. the weakest fall the first.

"shut your mouth kid; get back in line"
that's how she was raised.
and the music starts again. this time with strings.

i forgot i drove the van.
that thing's like a house, that refuses to get in gear.

dog's may die, but pt's is forever.


Thursday, May 11, 2006

hey-day may-day

let it settle.


let it sift softly to the ground and settle into your worn and tired conscience.


your brain is not a globe of snow, your thoughts are certainly not meant to suffer these incapsulated blizzards.  it's may for christ's sake.


let the twister through and let it sweep clean.  limbo was never made for children of your breed.  limbo is only for those who refuse to take their roller skates off.


the view is pretty, yes.  but you fell for a pretty view before.  let yourself be touched and flicked.  and then flick back.  and take the stage.  but take no prisoners.


the car's for sale; the house is being viewed; your life is a box needing to be unpacked.  and yes it is impossible to destroy packing peanuts.


just do me a favor and don't get lost in the coulda shoulda's or could-have-beens or what-oh-what-ifs.  just strip your garb, run through the sprinkler and be glad the sun chooses to shine.


 


Thursday, May 04, 2006

Currently Listening
Confessions on a Dance Floor
By Madonna
Jump
see related

precipices and others of life's recipes

Sometimes he feels like he's standing at the edge of something
so tall
so high up

and he's afraid to death he'll
fall
or the sky'll
erupt

he's not sure if he should shoot the blanks
or let his cards show

not sure what to hold on to
or when to let go

but a voice says 'now' and a voice says 'jump'

and then he knows just how and what it takes
to walk out the front door with a smile on his face



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