ejaculate, and disperse

The pinnacle of frustration.

Does he cry alone, too. I don't want to find out.

I am absolutely exasperated.

I cannot berate myself enough. For what reason I shall not disclose. Not all of them, at least.

How, does one fail to lull oneself to sleep. But I am not the Bicentennial Man. If my mathematical skills prove to be real skills at all, tomorrow will be a long day. No reason to be discouraged, though. Sleep is just another word.

While the elderly foreigners traded opinions about our local weather, and the wind had her way with my hair, I steadily focused on the black clouds.

Beautiful black clouds, ya know?

Several times today, I felt compelled to share my grief. Unfortunately, my compulsion attracted all the wrong people. Several times today, I choked. I looked at him and frowned with despair. To be overcome by a sense of futility or defeat.

Do you know why toast tastes so damn good. It's the sugar in breads, they caramelize after a certain point in the toaster. But, I am not getting any sweeter. In fact, if he licked me now, he'd wish he never knew me. I wouldn't leave his mouth, but he'd try to wash me down or spit me out.  

Insignificance. Did you expect it to be only a joke?

Years from now, if death remains mum about his plans, I reckon promises will be forgotten and gloomy anniversaries will find us.

There's been a death in the opposite house.

Well, the opposite section of the neighbourhood, perhaps.

A multitude of layers. Like ridges on the surface of a nail. Blueberry cake.

I misinterpreted the words of a man across the ocean. The result of my embarrassment is my ignorance, until I find the time to salvage what's left of my pride.

Prunes are quite defiant and strawberries are spoilt brats.

I think it's always been like this since it started, no? I will give up and you'll give in half-heartedly to make me feel slightly better. Very modest amounts. Did I leave anything out, considering I've been experiencing some odd memory lapses and whatnot.

My wants must equal to insignificance. To succumb is to lose oneself. The ideal being must refrain from very specific unlawful things.

This changes nothing. In a week, or perhaps a year (if events such as this are memorable), their perceptions will not differ.

I was sorely mistaken. I meant plums. Prunes are not my friends.

I no longer understand excitement, therefore I cannot embrace it. I know pretense well thus pretense becomes me.

This, saddens me.

What business do people have to be embarrassed of accomplishments.

A I sat there with those hard-looking faces, the shrunken skin was put to rest momentarily while I pondered all the things I want to hold. Somehow it doesn't make much sense to ponder, so I contemplate some more whether I should make it a habit.

How do we stay present in the here and now, when what lies ahead becomes our present preoccupation.

How long can you work here? Translation: How soon can we get rid of you?

Paranoia devours me.

For some reason I cannot take naps.

For some strange reason, this afternoon feels like the time when I had my innards ripped out and segregated.

Late yesterday evening, Mr Paranoia took me out for a walk. (I shall assume he's a bachelor despite the fact that misery adores companions). He explained to me the things I need not fear, at least for the time being. I have no clever words to describe this. He left me a lost little girl.

4 cuts and one peel in a day. A splendid new record.

My integrity has churned itself into non-existence. Malice must interfere at odd times, and the odd feelings never behave themselves.

Who are you? I am irregular.
What are you made of? Faithlessness and impropriety with a dash of bloody gloom.
What will you become? Dust. Unclaimed and irrelevant.