Tuesday, April 06, 2004

 

4/5/04

More often than not I have the perfect thing to say.

'Tis a fallacy.

The most perfect things I save for special conversation.

The many metaphors I conjure, I keep stored for rare occasions.

They're stored, saved for scenarios in which my emotions are backed up in a corner by rival emotions juss as strong.

These communities of words are my only hopes of defense from succumbing to pure infatuation.

They turn that yearning, that desideration, into something concrete, something tangible.

The give title to the definition.

This duration of peace has lasted for long enough.

The elite weaponry has to prove its worth once again.

I'm back in that historical period of wanting combat.

White flags are not necessary and are inconsequential.

The spoils of victory hold no essence without due process of fighting.

In this struggle, there are no casualties.

Only wounds.

I'm awaiting declarations of war.

Docking out...
-Ryan : the groupie in need of a superstar to follow

Ryan posted this at 12:28 AM.