prufrock
Stacks of books were all over the floor, creating a winding maze. I felt like a giant about to destroy a city as I followed her through the house.
The table was set in opulence for a feast. Warm candles, gold and jewels, silk and linen. The guests arrived, waited, but no food came.
Ink on skin doesn't make me bad. The blackness and hate if your bigoted soul are a stain you can never get rid of though.
Romantic wasn't quite the word for cold pasta and a beer. He was only really interested in getting past the "formality" of dinner, and on to the main event. but he was left unsatisfied with the remainder of a warm beer to keep him company.
A very different place at night. The grown-ups come out to swing.
Pressed for time, I hurried down the hall toward the elevator. I hit the button furiously, wishing that would somehow that would actually speed it to my floor. The doors finally opened and I squeezed into the overcrowded space, thinking how my shirt was going to be wrinkled by standing too close to so many people.
"A safe port in a storm" the sign promises. But by the looks of the place, it's not any safer than staying out here on the street. The paint is cracked, peeling; the door looks like it's bee almost kicked in... I think it's better to find any other "safe" harbor.
Sitting, waiting, wishing, hoping. Napping, lazy, tired, complacent. I just wanna watch tv. Fluff up my pillow, get a blanket, time for some popcorn and movies.
"Good times, come on!"
"Ok Kool and the Gang. Are you done?"
"Yeah. But I wish I had more confetti. You can never have too much confetti."
"Yes you can. And you didn't use confetti. That was vomit. You are shitfaced."
she smiled patronizingly and stated how concerned she was with my progress. but I knew she didn't really care. she was trying to cover her own ass. I didn't care about that class either. just going through the motions.
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