Thursday, September 2, 2010

these arms know not what they do

A friend is getting married. All of my friends and family are going to the wedding, but none of us know what time it starts. We gather somewhere profane before the ceremony and worry that we are late, that we have missed the vows, but that the bride and groom will surely understand. We can't be the only ones who made that mistake. The wedding never happens.

My consciousness floats above my body, which is flirting with a foreign girl. I want to stop because she is not Aysenur, but the body obeys not. Forgive these arms, Lord, for they know not what they do.

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