Don't Write About a Writer!
24.02.2009
Perfect.
Rectangular shades.
Drawing lines. Making borders.
The finite divided.
Unconfusing.
Then fall to pieces.
Brick by brick.
Just a pale resemblance of my own damn ghost.
My pen scurries across the paper. Feels like the lowest of the low. I'm almost afraid to ask: Do you care!?
Should get going!
Cristinnne.
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