portuglish
Cigarette smoke travels from the living room to my nose. My nose closes up real tight, setting up a padding for all the second hand smoke. Pegei o �nibus hoje. And more and more I feel myself walking taller on my own. In a world between split realms, and I like how I can hide and see, watch and observe. Because I see it all, even if I walk head straight forward. Then when I speak I wonder what people think. Voc� n�o � daqui.. n�o, �? E n�o, I say. When I write and it wants to flow, I find it hard to limit my speach. Out come a word or two in the language that I now speak. I hate when my writing is like glue, how can I get it to stick off lie me and get real smooth.
I guess I should start writing some more.
I sat next to a man on the bus. Nothing too special he was. Found out that was from somewhere else.. then I just looked ahead. I was too concentrated on not getting lost. Besides, I didb�t like his face.
I wish I could find music the way I used to. The music that would hit me. Pick me up by my feet and hold me there for a while. I searched for an hour, picking up and putting down.
Music turning into popcorn, constantly being punched out. New sound, new tune, some parts like a hard candy silent drug. Where�s that music that used to give me warmth like chocolate smooth. Where�s the words that came out full?
And how could I not want to come back to him? With the way that he describes how he wants to touch my clit. Rub it up real good then lick up on me. I just want him bad... and I�m happy that I still have this at least.
I�ve got myself a new family in 3 days. E vamos ver como vai ser, e desculpa para as partes em portugu�s. I haven�t written in a while, like when I don�t talk for a while. But it�ll all come back to me. It�ll all come back to me.
Friday, Dec. 22, 2006
9:43 p.m.
9:43 p.m.