aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - at three a.m., i am a mess, all sloppy metaphors, all self-appointed quests, all desperate teenage longing. but at eight, i am at peace again. i have nothing to prove and nothing to do but unwind to the buzzing in my ears and the sounds of a city that could not stay asleep. i can sip cheap coffee and stare into this fog and see nothing at all. and i can chuckle (gravely, like a gargoyle) at all the last-night urgency of a younger fellow. and i can almost feel the waxy newness of my tabula rasa, forged from the paltry ashes of melodrama every sunrise. 8:22 a.m. - 2011-10-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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