2004-03-14 @ 12:23 p.m.
Thoughts unyielding to the purpose, but idle bodies eat it up when imagination-made sensations caress like fingers, gloved hands burning them with touch.
Tomorrow-glazed days gloss over our laps like pretty-pictured magazines with models smiling plastic and veneers. Yesterday was nothing, nor is today, but tomorrow, ah, tomorrow is worth the making.
Sleep drenched kids with too much to do sit around and do nothing, stare at nothing, think too much, dream too much, and apparate into themselves.
Too much to think of. Too much to say. Too much to worry about. To much to forget. Too much to notice. Too much to let slip by. Too much to keep quiet about. Too much to contradict.
everything © Claudia (2003-2008)