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a strange language.

you know,
i do not see you around often.

oh. not even once;
i cannot see you in your true form
because you have no solid means.

but you,
when you are feeling up to it,
or feeling mischievious
you seep into the people around,
take their forms,
cast their shells away,
and appear.

in other words,
fuck off.

i have no patience for myself this very night.
i continue to whine and whine about everything
and whatever language i am speaking to me you whatthefuckevers,
i have no mood to decipher and translate
into tiny paradoxical parcels.

i think i have had about enough,
why not take up shopping;
be obsessed about the latest heels, bags, ribbons, boys?

maybe. maybe baby,
i need a good backrub.
lavender brother,
caramel caramel.

this strange language i speak
has its roots deep;
hey it is not like i lack the strength to pull.
like i said it is a choice,
a mad lap, or tech fag.

haha,
and i end up sounding like a crazy
schizo.