from the back porch the remnants of sunset pock themselves across the sky, and i sit, elevated on the hottub, higher that i ought to be. this life is onyl repitition of heartache and that is all. there are so many things i am in love with so why is it that all they do consistantly is hurt me? is this what love is?
1 comment:
aaah! horrid spam is not the ideal answer to probably the most profoundest of questions.. just thought id drop a line to alleviate the pain of this squallid advertising, which i have just discovered are produced by machines anyway. silly me. my blog is infested with them. anyway em i think that as much as we turn it over in our heads and hearts, this love business does end up having a circularity, the falling dragging and pulling and head bashing and bitterness and leaving and then falling and light headedness again, and the unfulfilled promise of infinity. and somewhere in all of that mess and beyond the circle there lies the truth, and oh how naive of me to believe in truth in the age of relativism! but thats what keeps me loving after all this time and not only being in love. but you know that allready.
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