Nov 20, 2009
the persistence of memories. the lack of continuum. is that really how you spell continuum? I re-read my previous entries and see now with more clarity; I was always too willing to bend. Worthless because I chose to give my self to those who, turning it over in their hand like some foreign object, liked it only for how easy it was to discard. Daddy never loved me and so I need you to. And so I'm a lesbian. And so goes everything.
These are the times that broken hearted love songs were written for. I can't sing but... can't I still have that chance? that chance to feel like something is real.
Don't give your heart to a man who finds heart meat delicious. You better freeze your heart.
I broke my heart this morning, aint got no heart no more. Next time that man comes near me, gonna shut and lock my door. Cuz they treat me mean, the ones I love, they always treat me mean..
I, too, have unmolded clay in my hand and now the guts to shape it.
posted by sarah 7:09 PM
