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It's midnight on a Saturday, and what am I doing? I am at home doing the dishes.

For some reason I find that disgusting.

Now, it's not that I don't have a life. The problem is that my life is generic. The only difference between my life and the lives of millions of other people out there, is that this life happens to me.

I'm finding the whole concept rather depressing.

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
paradigmshifty
Jul. 13th, 2002 04:33 pm (UTC)
Well! It's not as if you didn't get an offer of somewhere to go last night... :-)
halloranelder
Jul. 14th, 2002 05:25 am (UTC)
Would me accepting your offer have changed it in any way, shape or form?

No, it'll still be true.
paradigmshifty
Jul. 14th, 2002 05:37 am (UTC)
I'd like to think so.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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Desert Rose

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

I dream of fire
Those dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire
And in the flames
Her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire

This desert rose
Each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

And as she turns
This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams
This fire burns
I realize that nothing's as it seems

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

I dream of rain
I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes
This rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of her love

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

Sweet desert rose
Each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

Sweet desert rose
This memory of Eden haunts us all
This desert flower
This rare perfume, is the sweet intoxication of the fall

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