Tuesday, June 24, 2008


from journal entry, 10:14 p.m., June 16th '08

"Where to begin? 'Landslide' it is. I will miss her more than I can articulate; I love her more than I could ever explain. But even if she did love me, it would be selfish to expect someone so.. just in general in their own right to live as part of what I hope to become. But I will miss her, yes, so much. I do genuinely believe that certain souls are fundamentally connected, and that this severance is so painful because of that bond, which will probably take far longer to untie than our lives will, possibly longer even than our lives themselves will take to pass. I can only hope that I am mistaken in this belief as I have been with many before..."

"London Morning", 3:17 a.m., June 30th '08

She's here again in London, the sleepless sun-rising in her throat,
to greet the lump of realization which will either stay or go
that perhaps among it all she fell asleep or lost her mind,
and one day maybe she'll wake with horror at what she finds;
'cause maybe she was wrong about it, maybe she was right,
and one means she's been alone all along.
Maybe all she's strolled away from wasn't worth the fight,
but maybe it would've been were she strong.
She doesn't want to spend more time is funny on wasted attempts,
but still, she doesn't know if it's inexhaustible 'till it's empty,
& who are we to say that she's walked away from the one?
Hell, who are we each London morning to expect the sun?