Entince me hither, and I'll dance my show of words for you...

I currently have a 4.0 according to mid term grades.

Hoo-ray.

Why do I shudder in the warmth of sunshine? Recall the over cast days of yester year when the light of day spills over every inch of me. Tis strange. Tis..passing strange.

I recoil from grace, and bow before the chaotic thoughts that dominate my mind. Save me from a memory and ever biting truth. The thoughts sting my eyes with tears. It is good now..things are fine. Yet, that shadow haunts me. It plagues my mind. The foul pestilence of it's yearning, it's hurt and pain. The figment howls in anguish, and my mind attempts to become deaf to it. The souls inner ear ever open and bleeding from the stabs of reality.

How the daylight shifts into night is a baffling transformation...as does my mind, teeter and stumble through bouts of grins and frowns. What now is done, and what up is down..it is a folly. A false show of gag reels and reality television that hides the moons face from the frigid earth, as a viel of sickly clouds.

Fall upon the false, and hide from the torturing thoughts and ideas of questions. Flee the stress of a lover...and dig into the ground to simply find warmth again.
The world will slip back into orbit. Yet, how does it dodge those meteors of life that pelt it ever more? Only the raven knows, I suppose.

Time to hide away again...and chatter faint melody's of a happy time, that bar dis content from showing it's hideous face to the light again.

Moving more from Xanga...

She ponders this life. And dabbles in the thoughts of a vying reality. Attempting to break through yet battling within the mind. How prettily the temptations about her dance and spin..her intrigue is heightened. Little heart pounds "no" against the thin ribs, and she shudders at the command.

Why is she so stiff...? Her rigid being unable to bend to the ways of life. She warms the corners of the room, and smiles inwardly at her strangeness that life views in her quiet eyes. Those mute portals that scream far more then lips could ever utter. Silken screens shut over her life...and she stands within the shadows. Inhaling deeply the sense of chaos and light that circle around her.

Why so still little girl...don't you want to experience life to? She pauses. The question almost too much to bear as her warm substance of life becomes chilled within her veins. What does hold her back so?
Weird obligations of unspoken ways. She turns to stare upon the floor. The one constant in life..the barrier that keeps her body from floating a loft. It questions her not., and she finds safety in the lines that feet so often trample thoughtlessly.

”Hold tight little miss...”, her clever mind whispers, and she cherishes the hush that ensues. The way it should be..the way it is...the way that no one else can view it. Her cracked mind of reality, the terrible treasure of illusion that plagues it evermore.

Tear drop life slips down again...and the soul trails glittering after it.

Because a friend hates Xanga.

A clouded mind bats spider webbed eye lashes at reality...and beckons it come hither.
She steps with a strange grace, pivoting upon dainty foot...her imp like nature alive and well in her somber eyes.
Grace the reality of her illusions..step into the lime light of the false...she smiles.
merely a place to seek solace in the open air of the world while smiling at the strangers that lurk in the day time.
A friendly smile and nod...before I slip away again...how long shall I linger in this mid way portion of life...open doors tempt when the locks clink against the other sides. Twist the key, hide the knife. Show in the lady who stoops and falters. What is she but a child...the mind of innocence lies within that smirk..and vengence beats in her timid heart..yet she craves the old ways...a painful pull at contrasting ideas leaves her stagnat in the world. A shadow...a living shadow..her breath pants...and her pulse races....yet she is silent.
Enter the cage within her ravished mind? Or mock and toy with the ideas that she creates in private. Be indulged..or be afraid...yet touch her not for she may jump...no promises about biting. A false twinkle in the eye...the blue eye...how it harbors delight and degredation...tempt it not, friends. For the dove may snap, and expose her fangs. Do not be shocked when you draw away dripping crimson while she casts a chesire cat grin in her lunacy. Word for word...she battles the untold wars of the mind...and holds her tongue when reality knocks upon the door.
Go away stranger...and come back when fantasy is with you.
She'll be hiding in the corner...awaiting for the return..of the one who could save her.