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The Strain Between The Lines12:54 am
Girl: Are you awake?
Boy: I'm awake.
Girl: I really hope to see you and your sister soon. I don't know if I can. I might have to stay here.
Boy: Till when??
Girl: Until I have the money for school. It's hard to pay for it right now.
Boy: I know we will miss you. I will go to the Lake Washington College next quarter. Keep in touch anyway honey
Girl: What will you do at Lake Washington?
Boy: Just English
Girl: I wish you could study art sooner. I can't study music now. But I want to get a job in London.
Boy: Oh, cool, London. I wish you all the best.
59. No Way OutThe silver is dry
The green is dry
The time is dry
The hearts are burned
The ears are shut
The mouths ignite
Dreams aren't worth being just a human
But a human has to dream to have worth
If only the right road were illuminated
If only the world weren't a complicated field of ash
Nothings grows to ash
Dragged down by faithless love
Pining for hopeless love
The dilemma can't be told without being drowned
Can't stand the sound
Breathing with hands pressing on the chest
Running hard to get some rest
Growing up to be a childish fade of youth
It can't be the truth
No ends meet when the string keeps shrinking
Decisions unmade when the heart keeps thinking
Shake hands with debt and pay a neighbor
Face a winter, spring, and summer
Without that neighbor
Don't start shivering yet
Up in flames, down in the mud
Wallowing left and right in overwhelming madness
Pudgy, slimy, hallowed hearts
Equality, perfection, built on sadness
Choosing which mask to wear
While choosing which load to bear
We are the Fiddling Five.
One has a tale, a story alive!
The quartet shall sing, nigh on a string
An hundred times over, upon verse we thrive
We see, the first fiddle, our master
He follows the moonlight and rides the trains
Of gossamer hopes and demonic strains
Hither and thither his bow may play
Expressive of tears and all things ungray
Then the viola, the rare charm is set
Adds rich gold and bronze to our quartet
This man is sober and firmer on ground
Swaying and braying with a chest in his sound
Never to be missed for purity
Our cellist, the mellow understanding
Chugging the trains on which the first is landing
Sorrowful strength and a weakness of liveliness
Lowering the lot and mixing the pot
Splashing color on our palette
Our bass cannot be ignored, the bass
The foundation on which the city stands
He caresses the atmosphere with trembling hands
Walks men on the streets, bounces their seats
And causes the town to lift their feet
But the second fiddle is attended diffe
20 MilesI was a team captain at a Relay For Life my junior year in high school. I'd hoped to have it count as a culminating project, but it didn't work out. My dad's band had planned to play during the relay, but that didn't happen either. On that Friday, even though I wore the t-shirt, I didn't feel quite so gung-ho about walking around a track all night. I wanted to get home, get things done, and enjoy my weekend. To escalate that, classes were shortened so students could get yearbooks and sign them. I got mine, signed a little, and then high-tailed it out of there.
As I walked home, cars of kids passed going both directions. One coming toward me slowed and sort of pulled up next to me with the windows down.
"Smoke crack and do drugs! Whoo!" and the kid drove off with his buddies howling.Of course I wouldn't follow it, but the punchline for them was my bright green Relay For Life - Team Captain shirt. I shrugged it off and moved on. I had to teach a piano lesson and put my stuff together qui
Finding KraigSinging felt good right now. Something to get that weird hunch off my mind. I let it out as I crossed Highway 9 into my neighborhood and continued along the sidewalk. Up ahead, I saw a figure heading the opposite direction under the shade of trees and I stopped singing. Moving out into the sun, it was a guy who looked more or less nineteen years old, shirtless and carrying the article over his shoulder, in pants so baggy I had to make myself look away because of how low they were. His hair was dark brown, messy, and short, and he had the outline of a beard circling his face. I wished I weren't already walking toward him and hoped to politely nod as we passed and move on.
"Hey," he was calling to me. "Do you have a phone I can borrow? I was supposed to meet my sister and I need to call her." His voice was deep, young, and honest. Seeing as my phone was sticking up halfway out of my pocket, I took it out.
"Yeah, really quick," I told him, handing it over, not before noticing I had a coup
Watercry - Nox'rammeIt had been a long week. Things were becoming routine and more serious. Joseph was often exhausted, and always came back from his memories with more mixed emotions than he wished. Gaurmer had begun showing him more mundane memories, believing that the more eventful ones would drain Joseph physically and mentally, and the boring ones would simply help him understand his identity as Isyc. He certainly identified with Isyc. Everything the guy did was too similar to Joseph's habits: the way he walked, the way he put on his pants, the way he could be a charmer one minute and an absolute snake the next, even his keen ear was the same. The only difference was that his life before had been much richer, and the nomadic feel wasn't as much a part of him as it had been before. He certainly loved to travel, but it wasn't as if he were pushed to move everywhere all the time. Sometimes he really wished he could go back to that lifestyle, but other times the horror of what he knew versus what he didn
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