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November 30, 2009
I don't know what to say. My lips silently form the words that you want to hear, the ghost of a laugh. An orange is waxy, a perfect sphere. Why are swans considered beautiful? They're mean bitches...Give me a duck, a dove, a robin. I don't know what I'm saying. Are you asking me these questions? I don't have the answers you're looking for; I don't see myself this way. You are searching, I am waiting for you to find yourself, hoping that at the end of your hunt you will be looking at me. The month is over.