And never brought to mind
Sounds simple…
Chloe is dying. Poor thing didn't get much of a life.
By the time she was dropped off on the road she had been so mistreated all she did was cower.
It took me three years before she could trust me enough to hold her.
After that she couldn't get enough but the time has come for her to take her leave.
 |
| Chloe is the one on the right |
She would have been ten in March.
Tomorrow we'll go to the vet and I'll hold her while they put her to sleep.
I'll look back on this year as the death year.
So much death…
Maybe that's why River has been on my mind.
I made a video.
It may be morbid, I'm unable to distinguish dark from light at the moment.
It comforted me to make it so there we are.
Are you sure, that we are awake?
It seems to me
That yet we sleep, we dream
To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to dream
Ay there's the rub, for in this sleep of death
What dreams may come
Are you sure, that we are awake?
It seems to me
That yet we sleep, we dream
To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to dream
Ay there's the rub, for in this sleep of death
What dreams may come
River had his demons, don't we all.
I think he loved Keanu.
I think Keanu loved him.
This video is my testament of their time together.
Of all of us that were uncomfortable with normality.
Who the fuck decides what's normal anyway?
I don't do normal.
It's strange but my thought patterns are antiquated.
Hence I lean towards archaic diction.
It does not translate well in contemporary circles.
People think you haughty and affected.
I prefer to think myself succinct and cogent, a bit forthright perhaps to suit most.
Confusion reigns when ambivalent dialogue proliferates.
I don't play games.
I find people who do tedious and quotidian.
Guess why people believe me to be strange.
I had always hoped to find someone with whom discourse would come effortlessly.
My hope is dwindling, along with my will.
I need soul time.
I've queued my tumblr page, I have some time alone, I've got two Pendergast novels lined up to read,
I just got an order of Honey Amber Incense.
Sometimes you have to go away before you can get back.
I love Chloe, I'll miss her.
The world won't stop for my elegiac lament but my tiny one can for a few days until I can regenerate.
Or not...
Who the fuck decides what's normal anyway?
I don't do normal.
It's strange but my thought patterns are antiquated.
Hence I lean towards archaic diction.
It does not translate well in contemporary circles.
People think you haughty and affected.
I prefer to think myself succinct and cogent, a bit forthright perhaps to suit most.
Confusion reigns when ambivalent dialogue proliferates.
I don't play games.
I find people who do tedious and quotidian.
Guess why people believe me to be strange.
I had always hoped to find someone with whom discourse would come effortlessly.
My hope is dwindling, along with my will.
I need soul time.
I've queued my tumblr page, I have some time alone, I've got two Pendergast novels lined up to read,
I just got an order of Honey Amber Incense.
Sometimes you have to go away before you can get back.
I love Chloe, I'll miss her.
The world won't stop for my elegiac lament but my tiny one can for a few days until I can regenerate.
Or not...
