It's Kinda Like A Love SongThey didn’t know it yet, but they had been forever intertwined. As he stood there across from her his breath heavy and dragged, and she across from him her breath so soft and so still. They didn’t know that they had been following each others paths through life. That like a school race he had always been just a few steps behind an she just a few steps ahead.I’d like to think that they had both looked up and glanced at each other at the same time. And that things had just well, clicked. But as these things go, that didn’t happen. He had glanced at her in his own quiet manner. Studying her-wondering about her. His eyes searching for something deep within her. Maybe the secret behind her smile…maybe. And she had glanced at him. Sneaking looks every few seconds. Trying to decide on if or not to go talk to him.I wonder what would had happened if they had both looked up at the same time. Maybe, she would have walked over and talked.
A poem on Life.So this is life:you`re bornand your crying,but you don’t know whyyet you continue to cry despite that.And you go through most of life like that.you cry,and you cry,and you cry.And you can’t stop.And you don’t know why you can’t stop.Even though, you keep telling yourself,“to stop being such a wussy.”All you know is that you can`t stop.And when you think about it,you don`t really know why you started crying in the first place.But then, there are the wonderful days.The days when you think-no, knownothing can go wrong.These are the days you`ll feel unstoppableand undeniable.Those days it seems are also the easiest forgotten. They slip from your grasp the fastest.The easiest.It`s funny though,how when you do remember them you start to smile and laugh and well, feel wonderful.The there are those nights.The nights.The nights when all things that could have gone wrong,have.The nights when you want time to go t it`s
Tea With Plath.Sometimes when I get sadI pretend that I’m having tea with Sylvia Plath.And she’s sitting there talking,Going “I am. I am. I am.”And listening to me.Pretending my thoughts are important.But by the time the time is over,We’ll be in perfect sync,Sylvia and I.Both whispering,“We are. We are. We are.”
.She says she didn't do it,but you know she's lying.You know it's just an act for the audience.It's just a trick.You know she did it.You know she killed her.You know she stabed her.Murdered.Blood.Guts.Dead.So why is she lying?
The Doctor.He says he’s a time lord.That he wants to take me into his phone boothHe calls the tardis.That he wants to take me to the future,to the Middle Ages,or to World War II Europe.Whichever I prefer.He says we need to go to outer space,that we need to stop the Daleks.I say, “Who are you?”He says, “The Doctor.”“Doctor who?” I ask.He says, “Just the Doctor.”And pulls me into the phone booth.