curled
2003-09-10 12:51 a.m.

i have been reduced to absolute lunacy because of him. i sit and stare at his fake name and am unaware of my mind slowly turning itself inside out.

i want so badly to be wooed, turned, talked to. And everytime i put my fingers on the keys nothing but love letters come out. Love letters don't have to be praise. They can be about torture. Poe-style.

The though of him frees me and ties me down. Breath-play, fettered.

Have you ever had your hair braided? pulled and it hurts. maybe it feels free and good, exciting and tight. nape exposed and hair twisted around itself, elegant. he is that sweet pain.

A french braid, is my dilemma.