Today is Christmas Eve.
Today is about rushing around finding last minute presents, cleaning the house for the plethora of guests that will be received tommorow, rattling boxes to try and guess their contents, and eagerly anticipating one of the best days of the year.
However, today, I did not go to Wal-mart, or Best Buy, or Circut City.
Somewhere, she lies.
The walls, blindingly white, bind her to this,
her deathbed.
She watches the people around her, the ones who have helped her,
cured her for these many long years, shake their heads in dismay,
and give up.
Sitting in the dimming sun,
contemplating life,
I hear a chant
a mere whisper of a song.
I try to ignore it, but it grows louder
with every chirp of a bird or wave of the sea.
I try to drown it out with my dark, enveloping thoughts,
try to pretend that this strange song
Isn't absorbing into my body, my soul
Ahmadinejad, (curent president of Iran), was asked a question about gay executions in Iran, and he went into a rant about the death penalty. Moderator Dean Coatsworth kept on him however, and received this answer:
So. I was thinking about a few things last night when yet ANOTHER bought of insomnia rendered me unable to sleep. And I honestly can't remember half of them. I swear, if I recorded all of my slap-happy ideas and pursued those topics, I would be a genius. =]
