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shrapnel-shot existance

dear lj

I feel as though I should stay true to my new semi-resolution of using (and abusing) you by updating. Unfortunately, I am mentally exhausated. Thus...bullet points

*I went to Ireland to visit Ciara
*this was good
*One day you will probably be spammed by photographs from her cameramera
*tragically my train was Massively Delayed last night, meaning I got in about 2.30am.
*I am now a hugely sophisticated second year
*if you believe that, you'll believe anything
*Cardoff is still the best city in the world
*and english there defies all other degrees everywhere
*trufaxx machine
*the first series of the bbc robin hood was entertaining, but I'm not sold on the second yet
*I may or may not have a man
*I'm talking complete crap
*you probably know me
*this really is speaking for speech's sake. Only...silent
*how odd
* Meme. Please?
*and now back to basics
*I keep having phases of not-eating. Followed by stupid eating. ick.
*and, of course, everyone is Ageing

A twisted, languid, arabesque;

and the leaves are falling.

Old dancers, crooked, knees

knocking with arthritis, joints

crackling with age, they

leave the stage of their

halcyon days and, spinning, slowly

subside. They are not

young like some, all

supple veins and

fresh green hues, but

weathered, worn away to

golds and coppers that

stretch from view as far as

eyes can see. Each

leaves their natural stage

one by one

as seasons dance by

and summer becomes

a memory of kings of old,

passing life through earth to

something new, and buried,

by Time's sickle, in

soil with fading gold.


(Deleted comment)
Nov. 11th, 2007 12:17 am (UTC)
oh sweetie

how well I know the feeling

should we be given therapy, do you think?