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Milk_Issue_62
Mighty Illicit Liquid Kollections is back online for one farewell issue for
all of those who didn't know about the end of MiLK... MiLK is dead, that is
all.
I No Longer Hear The Woman-Spirit In The Tree by M.C. Dillon
I never could take a hint, wheather for
good or bad, so don't be cross with me, for
not once did I intend to make you feel
uncomfortable or act rude or at all
unpleasant. Maybe, maybe I tried too
hard to endear myself to you. But then
I realize it will not make any kind
of difference three shrot years from today
if you counted me as a friend in the scheme
of you relationships, and you looked for
me after graduation so you could
tell me goodbye forever; we both know
I'm not what you want, that no matter what
I do, all you can ever giveos is a
trite conversation or a brief, insincere
"thank you" dropped like a bottle rolling off
a bar that tumbles and wakes a bum from
grand visions, as your drunken words awake
me from the dreams I had of holding you
in that first precious bloom of love that grows
and fixes itself as a gentle and
sweet period in otherwise a lame,
absurdly tragic and strange pattern of
hoped-for relationships that have not
and never will come to fruition, but
rather wither and die like my words you
find sickly sweet, all in hope that I could
change your heart, make you what you aren't, and
that you could quicken me, and cheat the bleak
fate that alarmingly becomes more clear
and more apparent with each passing day,
that I have been eternally cursed as
rude, akward, and overbearing, like a
ton of sand: not only smothering but
removed and shaken and washed off when the
acceptance of day is gone and it is time
to change to clothes more suitible for the night,
as you exchange me as the summer nears.
So go then, I shall not pursue; I'm done
with questing and with chasing after your
sweet little solar systems of friends, so
do not concern yourself with the fear that
I might fall into orbit or disturb
and bother you, even so little that you
might be the first to wave as we pass by.
irony's pretty ironic sometimes, eh jamesy?
