block the voices out. the audible nothing that imprisons me in this room in the form of need-to-know information in a supposedly easy and convenient form of viewing for my tired eyes and weary spirit merely waiting for an end, that notorious time in bold that screams 10:45am and maybe just a little more.
see also: rambling in the form of
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thanks for the compliment, tho. =)
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i understand about the writing in class/inebriated/or emotional. everytime i get emotional i end up writing and posting it to poetry.com. heh...still havent bought that 'anthology' from those fuckers...
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i think i posted a poem or two on poetry.com, although what i've posted is crappy. i guess i just like writing in my online sites.. less pressure and the ranting feels good.
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