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I prefer the darkness, face-down against the mirror
dreading cranks of the key and lifts of the lid
and that goddamn song, ever-repeating its monotonous
metallic tinny tinkles, and the dizzying spins...
and I hate those clumsy hands that touch me, fingers
that clutch me, that push and bend...
if only someone could truly love me enough to melt
this plastic skin.
| I am thinking psycho killer ballerina here. She creeps|
out at night and slices off important pieces of
anatomy. Pay back for all that yucky touchy
feeling going on.
|| Posted on 2011-08-27 00:00:00 | by DaleP | [ Reply to This ] || they keep playing that wedding song, but my bridal veil sits untouched in the trunk...yet i am touched and contorted and moved like a ballerina..i am the tiny dancer in someone's hand...but more a figment of imagination than the real thing to him...why is that...i am getting tired of bending not breaking...|
i want to be loved for me....not for some picture of what they think i ought to be or might be.
|| Posted on 2011-08-23 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ] || i love the title here. i do. |
i want a tulle skirt in the worst way. is that weird?
sheesh. it must be hard to be that permanent ballerina stuck in a box. i mean if all my bads added up to give me new life as one, i don't know what i'd do. i think i would rather be a fly.
only because to find someone that made me feel human would seem more eternal than hell.
but anyway... as usual you have this heart tug way about your words. (i think i'll forever say that). yup.
|| Posted on 2011-08-23 00:00:00 | by isabella | [ Reply to This ] |