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Anndrew Balea

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(no subject) [Sep. 13th, 2005|01:31 am]
Anndrew Balea






sordid_sentinel or never see me again.
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(no subject) [Sep. 12th, 2005|05:39 pm]
Anndrew Balea
[mood |cold brains.]
[music |allll night.]

burst bubbles by stormy raindrops, wait, they don't love you like i love you. my life is being hard, but you are something of a light at the end of the tunnel, what gets me through lectures; everyone is always lecturing me, it seems. my caves are fleeing me, being forced away, to maryland, slain by an alarm clock and the impossibility of never awaking from those late-afternoon naps, wrapped in warm sheets and books.. the type of nap that you leave the lamp on during, but close the blinds. "the type of day that you just sit and watch," right, Uncle Duke? let me take my anti-depressants, i completely crash and burn, just another addiction for me, anything to occupy my time, but i love my addictions more than this world, you can keep your money, i'll save words, i want all or nothing, no imbuhteens, no double-back cross-stitches, no no no, on off on, a discovered best friend, secret above the floorboards, the truth is, it makes me better than you and you and you, reader-excluded, of course, "and i feel just like Jesus's son," and i just don't know, but i can guess, jealous of the hair on your arms, i'm not so selfish, you just stripped me to my core, too early, too early, i want you all to myself, can you blame me? i'm feeling much better, though, and i love you, a million times, never enough, and over all, you make me happy. i think i'm just happy.

sad for being happy.
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let's be honest. [Sep. 9th, 2005|04:57 pm]
Anndrew Balea
[mood |we'll shoot our guns.]
[music |one by one.]

i'm just kind of generally shitty. lowest, at the bottom even, below the rocks, and you've seen me at my worst, now, and that's what i've been fearing for so long, i want to kiss your streams of tears, and dry them away with my words, and i was secretly doing the same, but my voice is steadier, years of practice, you know, Boys Don't Cry, Robert Smith knows what he's talking about. uphill from here, i feel, i love, tonight i'll drink out of joy instead of the desire to self-destruct, and this is me, honest and bare, i only write in here for you, everyone else can be damned, this is me at my core, all emeaux and unsure, but honest.
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(no subject) [Sep. 8th, 2005|10:14 pm]
Anndrew Balea
your hands sprawled on my hips.
the curve of an equator waiting for perpendicular sunlight.
a direct hit of warmth.
coming from behind.
the heart is a slow huntress.
the mouth a cry of flowers in bloom.
pluck the petals, he loves me & he loves me not.
graceful fingers almost an afterthought, slipping to the floor.
that's what petals are, after all.
the landscape of my thighs still unruly & clapsed.
i miss you terribly

- says the false moon goddess.
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little one [Sep. 7th, 2005|11:03 pm]
Anndrew Balea
[mood |roarke.]
[music |drive all night.]

it dawned on me in self-induced grief and second-guessing, back of hand on brow and tired-eyed, that jealousy is a downward spiral that you trip and tumble down, faster and with ever decreasing worth, until you hit the bottom, alone and without light, and then you've lost all you fought for. the harder you squeeze a handful of sand, the faster it slips between your fingers, right?
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(no subject) [Sep. 6th, 2005|11:49 pm]
Anndrew Balea
[mood |where it new does.]
[music |life goes.]

like the ocean loves the stars, that's how this vampire loves his false moon goddess.
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(no subject) [Sep. 6th, 2005|01:43 am]
Anndrew Balea
let's be honest, let's save words, i'm writing you, and tempted to call you every other minute, if only to hear your sounds. hurry up and come back to me.
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(no subject) [Sep. 6th, 2005|01:30 am]
Anndrew Balea

deadly little mihoCollapse )

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make believe. [Sep. 4th, 2005|11:03 pm]
Anndrew Balea
[mood |self-indulgent.]
[music |la la love you. don't mean maybe.]

he awoke in his chair, having never known of falling asleep or sleeping. he was still dressed, and the sunlight cut through the blinds into his skull, driving him to will himself onto his still-unsteady feet and move to the bed that was not far away, and pull the covers over his head, but not before taking the bottle that had fallen out of his grasp off of the floor, and under the sheets with him. he was actually somewhat surprised that his legs carried him so far at all, forcing himself onto them without a second thought, but that pin-fear hitting him when his muscles stalled to support him. he was ruined, he knew, and fired too, there was no use in the phone at this point, besides, he was never fooling anyone anyways. it all began weighing heavily upon him again, crushing him, too much and he unscrewed the lid and swallowed a good deal, letting the cap fall to wherever it pleased and leaving it there, holding the bottle by the neck, pointed upwards, next to his thigh; the cap only slowed him down. his throat was dry and soar, coarse and reminding him of sand paper, and something was trying to hatch from the inside of his head. he noticed there was blood on the front of his shirt, whose, he didn't know, but wouldn't even consider that it might be his own. he couldn't bleed, wouldn't bleed, humans bled, not him. he was above such things, thinking to himself that he should have wings on his back, because Man has falsely claimed the earth for himself, for nothing can be truly ruled by a creature so lowly as to crawl along the ground. 'false gods,' he thought and drained the rest of the bottle, and in a moment of completely realized barbarism, threw it against the opposite wall, where it bounced back to the hard wooden floor without breaking. he smiled and pulled the covers over his head, wondering about sleep.

yeah, i made that up as i went along. i'm bored. you should still tell me what you think, though. have new things to say, please.
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(no subject) [Sep. 4th, 2005|05:02 am]
Anndrew Balea
off the phone, 5 am and oh so drunk. not shit-faced, but far from tipsy, you know. i love you and i love you and i love you and want to always be by your side, as corny cliched phrase, i hate myself and i want to die, you know, or have you ever heard that song, and i'm so sorry for rambling so into the phone line and goddam it's 5am here and alcohol saves my soul everytime, and please please please get back to me on that matter that honestly, is entirely inside of my heart. i'm drunk, and it's 5am, sunday morning, and it could not be better, except if you were next to me, period. in a perfect world, you would be holding a fifth of Jim Beam (86 proof), or a fifth of Southern Comfort, 100 proof (how wonderfully appropriate!) and in my bed and we'd both be drinking so much and telling each other every secret of our souls and all of our lost loves that i would kiss your every scar and want you to suck my soul clean from my body, leaving it to ramble on on on in double-seen sentences, and my hands are either incredibly ugly, or admirably, depending on who's speaking, and i think i'll call her tomorrow, to-morrow even, because of you, you make me grow up and feel wonderful inside and out and i'll always always alwyas alwyalsy laylwylaywlyalywlsylaywlayslyalwyalywlys always remember you, no matter what you may think. i love you and i always will, for better or worse. even if i haven't bought you dinner - you're the only girl i've ever spent so much as a plane ticket on without getting fucked, and that's how i know that i love you.

you should call me, to make me feel like you do.
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