There's something about them Disheveled...

I don't like the idea of waiting. It's alright to sit and be still until something you've been expecting occurs, this is not of which i speak. I don't like the idea of waiting for life. I don't like this perpetual anticipation of a meaningful life to suddenly show up...lingering. It's a hideous way. That's all.

And the unfinished. And the disparate recurrence in me of relieved dissatisfaction. And the scattered pieces that must remain for they never did belong to one another.

There are countless things to be made better and an equal number of those things that are good and (still) await my admiration or at least my acknowledgement. Nevertheless my time. I know there are things that deserve my attention. But here i am too small for any of me to be enough. Maybe the night is always too old to escape.

Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (5/21/04)

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