Desire is the small creature
with eyes that glow in the dark,
hiding in your center of gravity.

as experienced once again

There is joy in truth, and joy may or may not be pain.

I feel no sorrow for my actions until I speak of them aloud and dismissively to someone I think will not care at all. But when he does care, tears like allergies well up. Why should I be surprised? We side with our own kind. Telling the story was all a vanity to begin with, and so I accept my punishment.

Moreover, I know I chose rightly.

I am still wildly attracted to him, but it is all excitement and no feeling. Excitement, of a covetously intellectual sort, and still slightly smarting pride. Of course, in 6 weeks we will all disperse, and we will all pretend to be the best of friends and even the friendships of substance will grow empty with the glossing of socially acceptable Good Memories of College.

Have a nice life?

I will make my home among books, trees and large bodies of water.

If this be love

If this be love, I'd rather disgust.
If this be pleasure, I'd rather numbness. (Ignoring the fact that the excess of pleasure brings numbness.)
If this be passion, I'd rather restraint.
If this be togetherness, I'd rather independence.

For all of you cannot fill me!
Not your body, nor the expanding depths of your eyes.
If after a time, a covenant emerged or were eradicated,
perhaps your soul could fill me.
But so long as you remain unable to comprehend past my breathing,
beating, pulsing, rhythm of physical being unto death,
No covenants can become or begone.

I bear behind the barriers of my body the burden of eternity.
Eternity it is, who holds me from abandoning myself,
Or filling it only half-full.

I think that all of only Nature can hold me and so
I made a covenant with the Forest.