litote_convoluted: art: whether you rewrite your nightmares or always recommend a [a] dangerous sleep.
Whether you Rewrite Your Nightmares or always recommend A [a] Dangerous Sleep
I.
He sat casually in the chair in front of the desk and crossed his legs.
I�ve read somewhere that
the direction in which a
person crosses his/her
legs indicates where his
/her attention
is focused.
He sat casually in the chair in front of the desk and crossed his legs away
from me.
And his legs were
crossed completely, in
a way most
unfashionably
feminine.
I frowned as casually as possible.
II.
I have found stars in unlikely places.
�Being inside you is like fucking God,�
he said.
�The universe and everything in it is
God, hiding from
Himself.�
His glasses were digging into my shoulder.
�Thou��
[thrust.]
�art��
[thrust.]
�God.�
And he beat the Hell out of me.
We were mechanic.
I grimaced and turned my head.
I was released as he released.
III.
Mirrors-
(i am reminded of Sylvia Plath)
-he Hates my poetry because
he is forced to look at
Himself.
While I revel in self-reflection,
he
is stoic.
There is a pain in me which
he will Never understand.
There is a love in him which
i will never feel.