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You say it's not a sword!
But with your pen you torture men.
October 25th, 2009 
I say that you're a liar.

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Go on, go on, go on, go on and dream. Your house is on fire.

I had a nightmare of sorts this morning. I was in a restaurant seated at a table across from Michael Jackson. He was wearing that blue tracksuit from the Invincible Virgin Megastore signing. His hair looked like it did in 2004. He looked good. Healthy.
He and I were having a conversation, I don't remember the content now, but I do recall that he was just about to make an important statement to me. Perhaps about a career move? He stood up from his seat and made direct eye contact with a slight smile on his face.
I looked up at him expectantly. It was going to be good news, so I was smiling in anticipation. I remember being excited to later tell my sister about my encounter.
Then just as he opened his mouth to speak...his face transformed. It became something grotesque, absolutely bloated and puffy. His lips yellowed, shriveled and curled into a horribly involuntary sneer. Large purple bruises encircled his eyes, which rolled back in his head. My own eyes widened in horror. His knees gave and he started to sink to the floor. I screamed, stood up out of my chair and grabbed his face with both hands...as if I could stop it, as if to protect him from it.
Then I woke up.
I might have screamed out loud, but of course, I can't be sure.
I am sure about the feeling, however. It was a terrible sensation of desperation & being helpless to help him. Kind of silly, really.
I feel like such a little bitch, but even at 4 months I still miss him so terribly.
widening eyes
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