December 2011
7 posts
1 tag
lisieux: Love, perhaps, is nothing but the convenience of timing and geography. Who comes closest first, who comes closest last is all but a great black comedy. In the great space of coincidence, it really is not about the race but about strings of fate that mock us.
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When you leave me alone with the devices and tricks of love, you’re asking for it. Starting from the tips of my fingers, flesh rots slowly and then very gradually spreading upwards till I can’t bear to touch you any more because it hurts. It starts melting from inside my face, degenerating till you can see it from the outside. I really want to pull my disfigured face apart for you; for...
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November 2011
7 posts
2 tags
