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| It's been almost a year and EVERYTHING has changed. For the better though. Always for the better. Life is good. Happy Birthday to me. And Happy Valentine's Day to everyone else. | | |
| 1. I really, REALLY want to get started on writing my broadway musical/sensation. I don't know where to start though. All these ideas and no way to put them together. Also, I'm no musician. I write poetry, not music.
2. I kind of want to try my hand at stage acting. I'd want it to be something I was very familiar with though, like My Fair Lady or Chicago. I don't want big parts, but I think I could pull off Mama Morton. I don't know about the other. Most of the female parts besides Eliza's are fairly obscure and/or dull. Really I just want to be in the Ascot scene.
“It can't have been right for your father to pour spirits down her throat like that. It might have killed her.” “Not her. Gin was mother's milk to her. Besides, he poured so much down his own throat he knew the good of it.” “Do you mean that he drank?” “Drank? My word, something chronic.” | | |
| I need you. A fix. More than a fix. The very life-blood in my tired veins. What has become of me? The exquisite final intake. Floating in the same catacomb liquid that fills my seared lungs. Intoxicating every fragment into delerium. Suspended. Then sink, slowly. Watching the sunlight fade to fluid emerald between my ghostly fingertips. Funny, it looks just like your eyes. I never knew drowning could be so painless. | | |
| I remember when depression made me sleepy. What the hell happened? | | |
| When you're alone, who cares for starlit skies
When you're alone, the magic moonlight dies
At break of dawn, there is no sunrise
When your lover has gone
What lonely hours, the evening shadows bring
What lonely hours, with memories lingering
Like faded flowers, life can't mean anything
When your lover has gone | | |
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