Because it is today : May. 02, 2007 at 11:51 AM

I then considered it to be lost on me. Honestly, how to devise such an elaborate strategy just in order to see it fail with the first person you try it on? Of course, this does not make sense. You do not wish it to make sense, looking and living in a small box, just like I do is a lot more amusing, but in the end, it is also limited. Convoluted speeches do not mar intelligence they insult it, and such was the speech delivered on that occasion. It was no wonder, that the true wonders it could make, produce, etc. were ... lost on me. Catwalk. Hilarious how such a word could apply for the basic occupation of these men. They defile in front of a public so much greater, so much more mundane. The devil wears Prada has become nothing else than an empty expression of bewilderment. You wish to look it, you're not it. You wish to be it, suddenly you look it. C'est la vie, non? So let us return to my eyes, to the eyes that now follow them, daring, wanting, challenging. When you see a beast the first impulse is not to kill it, to hurt it, to exile it, no... it is to join. Join me, for join them I did or will do. My head spins. I wish it were so because of some strange exotic drink I had poured past my lips. It is not. Read as if you were to say it. Do not attempt to understand, there is no understanding, if I write, then I just do. Not like you. You think, you poor mortal soul, vindictive in your right. Just like my soul is, should be, and yet, I care not for this. It pains me, hurts me, makes me smile, how much of a mortal I am, how much I depend upon.... time. Did I not say it does not matter? It is of no real consequence? I was wrong. I am wrong. Walk with me. Smile at me. Sing with me. The roads are all open to us. The no-trespassing-road, the no-smoking-road, the no-thinking-road, the no-trusting-road. We do not choose them, because we in our alleged superiority, walk on the no-dirt-road, no-animal testing-road, no-nuclear-road. It is not alleged. It is not fake. But... You do not cry with me. For I know it ends. We grow out, we out grow, we die. And I feel old. Make me feel alive. You stop and you kiss and you choose and you bite. You bite off parts of me. My lips, my eyes, my ears, my breasts, my hands.... my fingers. I am no one. No one that makes sense.