All I can do is lie here, brain turning somersaults. It's nights like these when memories stir, whipping themselves into stiff peaks of pain.

the not-so-bookish librarian was half angel, half she-devil, so sayeth the rumor mill.

We kissed for about the thousandth time, No promises, no demands, Just solid rebuilding of shattered trust.

This is unstoppable, no holds barred. This is beautiful. Crazy. A beginning. Betrayal. Addictive. Aggressive. Alive. This is something to be afraid of.

And the thought of that makes me want to open a vein, experience pain, know I'm alive, despite this living death.

You believe this is a game, and you may be right. But if you think you can play it better than me, think again.

So when he asked about getting high, I didn't think, I agreed. We smoked some good California green. Took three tries to put me in the place he said I should be.