__________ ; ; gospel according to [ me ] . . .

a little bit of a resurrection
my life journal: cutmedown

perilous

baby, things don't change over nite. you can't go from dry blood to fluffy clouds in an instant. you focus your eyes on the prize for a moment & let yourself lose sight of the imminent truth, of the ever present scent of death. [suicide] why are you squeezing a black blind-fold so tightly around your head? why don't you want to see it? you know it's there.

keep them shut. keep running. keep dancing it away. keep pretending. you know. we know it's there.

memories can be supressed. memories can not be forgotten.

all that i want to do is start over. all that i need is a clean slate. a white rag to wash away all of the blood, all of the tears. i want it so badly that i might be pretending it's here.

written on 2003-07-15 at 11:28 p.m.

she / lost