This morning, right before I awoke, I seem to have written a short piece from the perspective of a writer who writes a very well-received piece about a shallow, narcissistic young woman. When I woke up I could only remember the end, which I recorded as follows:

"But would anyone ever see, ever really know, who she really was? Would anyone ever realize that I would treat her like a queen, like a goddess? That I would open my vein for her to drink?

But they never just drink, they bite in with both canine teeth, sucking away the sushi that lies just beneath the surface, leaving just enough that you don't realize just how much is gone, that you still jump in gladly with both feet without stopping to remember that you can't swim, until after one New Years' Day argument when you realize that there's nothing left."

Leonard Cohen lyrics for today:

i don't mean to suggest
that i loved you the best
i just remember you well
in the chelsea hotel
in fact, i don't even think of you that often
-
and the dealer wants you thinking
that it�s either black or white
thank god it�s not that simple
in my secret life

A real entry to come, perhaps.

you will drink my chemical,

greyarea

Diaryland