robot talk. bleepity bloop.
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2004-07-30 18:31:59 (UTC)

in chelsea

I wanted to tear off all of my clothes, shave my head, and run.

A part of me felt as though I should leave as much of myself
behind as possible.

I thought of old movies where runaways left calmly with
their cleverly packed miniature suitcases, as though leaving
places was all a part of their routine. professionals.

I am many things, but never a professional. A quitter
maybe. I quit everything but you. My life's ambition
wrapped in rolling rolling rolling away toward somewhere we
both imagined in a red convertable. towards you picking a
lover and me picking drapes. my mistake.

I walked two hours to the train station in the wrong shoes.
I arrived walking with a significant lump on my heel, and
bloody gashes where my shoes had rubbed my skin away. The
gashes oozed with life and I knew that my body was working
in a way it never had before. Something flight alone is
good for.

I stuck to the floorboards and the floorboards to me. You
could hear me underneath but you didnt say anything because
you like to hear me scream. like to see me suffer. like to
know that this is all for you.

He put his face so close to mine so that he was out of focus
and whispered IM SORRY. And suddenly he was human too.