May 3th / 2009
Feature: Watchers (April)

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I Dont Dot My I's With Hearts Loving you is like trying to accept the taste of aftershave in your mouth when you accidentally take a swig of it instead of the hidden vodka.
You manage to choke back the tears as it slides down your throat, fingers groping the sink while you debate to dial 911 or take a few more sips. The vine-like liquid has only begun to initiate contact with the part of your brain that says itmightbetoolate. Your eyes stagger to the bottle you had wanted to drain a moment ago--it was empty anyways. Fuck.
Fear gets the better of you as your newborn legs manage to ground themselves in front of your cellphone and your fingers dance across the keypad. Yo
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loveIts a throbing urge for something more than chocolate,
heartfelt more than mike jackson's music,
a swit pain,
a desirable loss of heart,
an individual union,
companion with all certainity without proof,
being in over your head but having an assured back-up,
shooting stars in th horizon,
near drowning in a river when all intended was to flaunt your cookery,
dreaming all night of th last meeting,
fantasizing all day of the next,
indigestion while drinking soup in company,
insisting on the never ending back pains while screaming for a massage, understanding by sight,
seing what is to be heard,
smelling that to be touc

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Yeah I have a lot watchers now, over 1300!