the end of the road brings with it an inevitable bitterness. hijacked by the nonnegotiable, curtailment cutting in before any hope for clarity or restoration could take shape. there are no breaths to steal when inhalation is measured out by the hands of another. this distance could not be farther, but your seismic pressure sits full-force on my
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as an aside, i was in new york a few months ago for a couple of days. i thought long and hard about knocking on your door, in case there was time/inclination for a cup, but you were laying low at the time and it didn't feel right. i should have knocked...at the very least.
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i am about to make my exit from here, perhaps lay low again. but i know what it is that brings me back here time and again. this is a distraction and an obsession, that keeps me from being here, this other place. i am drawn to the pain of others. as much as i like being anonymous here, i really don't. for me it becomes too much of an investment. it makes me feel a little less confused but i think i prefer to 'bleed' alone. here, we will always remain strangers. i have become too of a stranger to my own little life that this i can do without, have to do without.
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just one of those nights.
be well ali.
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I wonder what cross-trable conversation would bring us these days.
How are 'things'?
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I'm sure we could find a thing or five to talk about. =)
And, things are just things. I'm beginning to think my destiny is to remain at least slightly disturbed on a ritual basis about one thing or the other. If I ever did actually find true happiness in some form it would probably shock the hell out of everybody, me included. ;)
Take care of yourself, Mister.
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(The comment has been removed)
(thank you).
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