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a perfect smile to go with a perfect face.

sick or not, i'm breathing.
less than two hours sleep last night. vomit, and a six hour work day, my little eyes aren't fresh.
and i feel as if my night is drawing itself into a pretty, perfect little ending.
to call last night a disaster is an understatement.

some times i feel like the harder i wish and the tighter my eyes close and my fists clinch, the more disasterous it all becomes. if holes in walls, and if fuck yous weren't enough. at least those things can be patched up.
this little heart of mine is a different story. it's totally to pieces. everywhere.
it's really a mess.

i just want my head back down to ground level. i just want my head back, period.
really i wish i could drive to your house, and rock back and forth in your bed as if i was laying on water. and i really really wish that you wouldn't take your hands off me.
pretty please and thank you.

10:28 p.m. - 2005-12-17

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