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The Terrible Writings of Quentin Montejo
Serial experiments on a fallen archangel who only wanted to regain just one wing back
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Free of the World. Rain worshipper. Hermit. Tormented mind.
Caged spirit. Defiant and eternal enemy of Destiny and Fate. Poet. Scientist. Artist. Daydreamer.
He who laughs. Slacker. Sleeper. Romancer of wings and clouds. Fiercely independent. He who is ponderous.
Games and anime junkie. Four eyes. Caveman. Nature-lover. He who doesn't think that hard. Non-smoker.
Music-junkie. Counter of blessings. Guitar-hugger.
He who simply wants what everybody else would like to be in this world and the next -- to be happy. |
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Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Poetry Entry: November 17
A Call Center in my Mind
- Q. Montejo i wish for you to hear me say from beyond all the miles and walls that separate both hearts and homes *i am thinking of you* through endless wires and radio waves running on telephone lines and satellites but ... you cannot hear me because you are sorrounded by noise the incessant words of people around you and the pandemomium we call life i only wish for all of it to be silent even for a moment, or a second just so you can hear me make a little demand, a little favor then i thought ... if i ask you to hear me then you have to glance away from where you are going this i cannot accept nor want so you can just imagine me now talking to you, asking for that little favor but with my hand covering the mouthpiece 1 Comments:
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