Tuesday, September 14, 2010

To Dance Again.

I need a little more conversation, a little less talk. A little more running, a little less walk. I need the company of more than a glowing screen and more than my dreams.

I don't particularly like being passive aggressive but my aggression is reserved for the pitch. And now  for my volley of blunted barbs.

I wasn't hopeful at first but people were encouraging and optimistic about it happening, you included. And so I dared to hope as well. Too bad for me. Now, unprepared and defenses crumbling, I'm getting too tired to fight. Maybe I need more mental skills training. Then I wouldn't need you so much anymore.

There. Not so much a cathartic explosion as a little leak in the gas pipe of frustration. But my tank is rarely full anyway. Time to turn into the ever welcoming arms of my solace from reality: a boy with brilliant green eyes and a shock of untidy, dark hair; hair that hides an unusual scar on his forehead...

Wit beyond measure is Man's greatest treasure. Does intelligence intimidate you?

|Basking @| 8:15 PM|

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