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| industrial, libyan, sumerian, charlie croker, and letters, richard bright, derek, bad, don cheadle, adrenalin, jarule real name, john terry, | my breath is stolen. My heart lurches. And I'm still alone. And oh god, it still hurts. (idea) by Loon (1.3 mon) (print) ? 2 C!sSat Nov 18 2000 at 21:51:29 (person) by grundoon (8.8 hr) (print) ? 3 C!sThu Mar 04 2004 at 17:03:59 My father is ill. He does not want to admit it, but years of smoking camels like he wants to grow a hump have left him with fairly non-functioning lungs. loretta devine My sister, who loretta devine is a family practice doctor, tells me that he has trouble walking up hills. Soon he will not be able to sing, or sail, and then what will happen? He might drink himself to death. Perhaps a better fate than life as an invalid, towing an oxygen tank around behind him. My uncle is dying, my mother's brother. |
Best Mature Paysites
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| Does she still know me? Or is she gone, lost, a spirit in the breeze? My last day with her... it looks bad, and I know it's about time... but for some reason, protection maybe, I choose to go home and sleep, be by myself for awhile. I'm sure it won't happen tonight, charlie croker I convince myself. Sitting in my basement at two in the morning, August 18th, 1994, I feel charlie croker it. A part of me is suddenly gone. Selfish, fucking selfish, her last moments and I wasn't fucking there. I hate myself for that. The phone rings. It's my father. "I know," I say. Before he can even get the words out. "I know." It's been six years... enough time to ease the pain, enough time to find myself again. And still... still I will be walking down the street, driving in my car, listening to the radio... suddenly, I'm next to her bed, watching her be consumed... |
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