Thursday, Jul. 07, 2005 - 12:01 p.m.
12-Step Mask
As I stretch my eyelids(yes, folks, eyelids) the vapor of the cheap vodka I had last night seeped from within my waterducts like an air freshener. Are sleeping masks part of the twelve-step program? I noticed I don't mind you when I'm a tad bit drunk.
This ain't a love song to you, this is a cry for help to anyone who can read between my lines. I force everyone's face tonight to contort to yours - but don't you go getting mad at me honey. (1-12-05)
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...And certainly no dessert
It was a small square-shaped table and while you were checking the weather on your electronic whatchamacallit the couple sitting in that square little table were slowly dying, just fading away, shooing words away like pesky mosquitos.
The food kept making its way into their mouths quickly for fear that they might actually have something to say to each other. They seem to have grown tired of each other and they looked like they didn't have a chance. Maybe they did and they didn't want to take that chance. It's understandable, at times.
It hurt to look at them, but I couldn't stop. It was like watching an accident in very slow motion happen over and over. She looked left while he chose the right, and while she avoided his gaze a drak chocolate sista's ass kept his stare at bay. I've never seen a white guy's eyes bulge out so, but the girl sitting in front of him didn't notice, or at the least didn't care.
It wouldn't have made sense for them to order dessert; that's only for when you're in love, just like wine. (2-25-05)
