about the talking fish

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Writer. Wheelman. Occasional DIY mechanic. Walking collection of hang-ups. Hopeless romantic. Old-school. Analog soul in a digital world. I am all of these things and more.

Monday, February 06, 2006

A bullet for my Beloved

Beloved,
There are only so many places I can follow you into. I’m sick and tired of wanting to fit into your world, one dictated by the iron grip of your idiosyncrasy, because I know I will always stick out like a sore thumb and you will never look at me anyway because I do so.

I’ve given up following you. Can you please go away?

Oh, yeah, that’s right: You were never truly here in the first place.
Shoo.

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