i pathologically start naming things after angels. in my head i'm going after divots looking for treasure. she's in bed reading the believer & ranting at the article. i'm sort of lost; i can't imagine that anyone's memoirs front as a realistic representation of the past. isn't the past already fiction? maybe i'm lost on bannana peel definitions. when she finishes the article we fuck using a female condom. i say we fuck because i'm embarassed to say we made love. i whisper in her ear between gasps that i'm mortified by cliche. after we finish, she falls asleep for work the next morning. i get the hiccups, i hit the computer.
you bet i am trying to tell you how lonely it is for the angels of punishment to be outside of heaven. but i'm putting it in code now. i throw a layer of shellac on the whole thing. but who is fucking missing the large, 22 pt. font? if i make an antipaladin class called "malake habbalah," will that do it for you? if i have crown elf tears inflict cause minor wounds, will my livejournal stop being about geek fucking off & start being about poetry?
if a zepplin the size of the moon crashes into you, do i. is it 65 million years ago & am i in shards. what does love change. i still see a starfilled sky. when i tried to name the city of heaven, i tried to come up with a word that meant without ceiling. instead i came up with evil. i read about what a good character is supposed to be. motivation! am i a method villian, i guess is the question. my answer is fuck you, since the "internet garrote" i requested hasn't been invented yet.
