Switchblade Duets

She's a dazz-demona dream in all her reflective glory. Bats her eyes... "I'm you, don't you see?" She represents everything you ever wanted, all you wish to be. (Point blank. Nice change of pace, don't you think?)

He's the mystery, the innuendo smile that's all made of rubies. You see him and he is dark, the contradiction you can touch. He's the clearest perspective you have, but also the one you least comprehend. He puts out his hand in an offer to dance.... (Where she's a dazz-demona dream, he's a scarlet nightmare.)

Stop breaking down my beats! There's a certain trick to their switchblade duets, him dodging her blows, and she evading his courts. (You have to sing it in a certain order, or else the song will end.)

She puts it on her calendar, gifu marks the date, and he waits for neid to take its place. They love and they hate, but in the end, they are tied to the self-same coin, the only pay-off their struggle (dance).

So, you might as well smile as you look in the mirror, even though you're SO confused. 'Cause all this is what's inside you, personification just a ruse.

First Day Biology

It's the first day of Biology, and predictably enough, I'm already bored. (And I was concerned about not having time to blog.)

Compared to the rest of my classes today, this is a veg fest. Better than Survey Science, but still watered down and dull.

Hey, hopefully I'm wrong and this will run me as ragged as History, English, and French. That'll be amusing. I'm already so busy I suspect I'm going to do some spinning outside of dance. (Gotta practice those pirrouettes!)

In the meantime... Can that clock tick any faster?

Because I Dared

I know little of the world and even less of myself, standing here in the doorway of Hell. Smiling wide to make a point that isn't there, playing pretty beneath a friend's fickle stare. A greatness within is all I can suppose, thinking the best of myself and the worst of everyone else, the other way around on the good days. (But what qualifies a day as 'good'?)

Short sentences made run on in a dash for sense, falling flat on every race. My face is bruised, but that doesn't make me special. No, 'cause I can look around and see that I'm not the only one bearing marks.

We strive, we thrive, and we strive to thrive, just all looking for the same end of a circle. My soul is your soul, and your soul is his - the only difference is a turn of mind.

And my mind is humbled, knows little of the world, less of myself, standing before the door to power. Gaze intent upon a point to be found, alone and not alone... Greatness is all I dare suppose.