A diatribe
2006-02-18 15:06:08 ET


Scratch my soul
My Jacob Grace
Passť vaults of ordinary
Boring and forced by decisions
Need not apply.
Let every kiss be an accident.
Let unpredictability destroy
What I thought I knew
Laugh when I cuss
Adore me when I growl
I beg you please
Make it real
Make it different

After: "This Generation's Love Story"

Jacob Grace died alone
in his ocean of deciet.
The man who scratched Trixie's soul
has left his body behind
never to be found.
Trixie cried the ocean forth
from the hole left in her soul.
Madeline and Simone don't
use the swingset in the yard anymore
time has ticked on by
leaving the swings rusted
and the museums closed for the season.
Even the Jersey pinball machines have shown their age.
Trixie smooth talked the saints
she goldentongued the Lord God Almighty
But, she had to keep going.

2006-02-18 15:23:06 ET

"Passion... it lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open its jaws... and howl. It speaks to us, guides us; passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead." -- the venerable Ty King

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