'he's a rebel, and he'll never ever be
inclined to make a sketch of him and not for the first time, it is
enigmatic from the start, dark eyes like coals, that conscienceless gaze
(a guiltless gaze, so unconcerned ...!)
i'm nearly inclined to pick up a hairbrush
and start singing
of how he was
partly hidden by shadow
absolutely criminal in his first impression
leaned back in his chair, arms limp at each side like a junkie, smiling vaguely
as if transcending
immediately recognizable as a night owl
pale, anemic, thin-wristed and mean
a crown of thorns i wear round my chest
every time i move i bleed a little
he's a rebel
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- I. I am not going crazy this morn...
- from somewhere this sadness rose in me like moss, ...
- i don't ever want to scratch the surface of the co...
- 1 train wreck I know myself to be a train wreck ...
- head full of snow
- asleep and dreaming
- it's a face i want to turn to me with all the warm...
- half my heart
- 'he's a rebel, and he'll never ever be any good.' ...
- ▼ June (9)