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Imee
- Asgard
- Last Record: 2013-05-22 07:46:01 -0400
- Joined: Jun 29, 2009
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You walk like a wounded cliché You’re in love with the games You bathe yourself in red wine, You heard irony is back in fashion, You smile like you are the first man Nobody has ever been saved, And bury our memories deep
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The Magician’s box arrived at precisely 10 a.m. The UPS guys, didn’t even blink twice when you signed for it. Then together we struggled to drag that thing into your garage. Yo... |
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This is how it happened. |
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I love the chime of imperfect things,
together they pipe the symphony of broken dreams. Desires expressed in solitude become tomes & zeppelins in our mind's play. |
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I pack my grief in ridiculous looking boxes ... |
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Peter packed his photographs post permission from persnickity Albert- the fabulous, pontificating, palaverous, bossman. Peter was pleasantly surprised with the precipitous reaction of the ants o... |
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As the boy closes his eyes, a dream unfolds of his former life... " When was I ever a child?" he asks. He shuffles: dates, numbers scribbled on chalk, restaurant receipts; an inscription on a we... |
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&n... |
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An anonymous exchange on a train: |
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It's a door that has existed as early as time. Nobody knows its reason for existing. Nobody questions its identity. And since anytime a person steps into the door, by the time he or she has reac... |
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The clowns wear their...
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Our toes playing hide and seek beneath the sand. |
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