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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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Monday, June 20, 2005
Not Francis
All the words that I've been saving for this blog entry is gone. The only thing in my head is that song by Hale (after a while, they're sound like whining men complaining of constipation).
Well ok, I saw a young picture of me when I was 23. It was one of the first group EBs I've attended in PEx. I've grown old. Older than the five years that passed by since then. The mirror is showing it: eyes tired and sunken, ash-tinted pale skin, some weight, and symptoms of a chronic heart disease (never really told mom). I remembered saying to myself that I've died a thousand times but only lived a few hundred. Somehow, I'm still that old quiet kid who could barely talk. --- Anyway, here's a poem I made in PEx. To be read while listening to "You First Believed" (italicized text lines from said song), when the chorus is already playing. Hope I don't make these too often. I kinda hate the aftertaste. how many wishes i can get from a star before it fades it was you who first believed how many stars can I see through a car window before i have to look back on the road it was you looking in my eyes how long does the road have to be before i find you in this vast expanse of night and i've never been the same since you first believed how many nights do i count still before it begins giving me warmth it was you who first believed how much warmth do i need before i am ok in all that i was made to be how can i be ok when you keep going away? it was you looking in my eyes how much farther will you go away before you stop and look at me you held my hand and you showed me life how will you look at me if you're too blind to see through this night and i've never been the same how many stars do i light up before you see your reflection in my eyes since you first believed ... how many stars ... how many stars ... 2 Comments:
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