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Below are the 12 most recent journal entries recorded in The Neutral Club's LiveJournal:

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008
5:54 pm
Don't let me stop you--there was nothing i could do anyway..
You are like the wind, I am the net seeking to hold you, bind you to me--it was a good plan.
Never try to fault me with your petty intentions, i can read eyes like the deaf read lips--or at least im that good at pretending..
Sunday, July 20th, 2008
10:53 pm
"i thought she was happy,"
Bradley insisted, his mind
still wrapping around the facts. 

Sara paused. It had an effect.
Her silver nails rested; cupped
around a glass mug of Lipton tea.
"No, I think she was content. That's
not the same thing."

Bradley mumbled in assent.

Sara leaned closer, her voice
hushed in concern. "What was
that?" She questioned softly.

He gazed oblivious, in her
waiting sea blue eyes.

"I'm nothing," he replied. The
comment followed with a
helpless gesture. "I'm nothing
but a Baxter."

Sara sighed. Would he ever
see her? "Goodnight, Bradley.
I have a plane to catch." She
left him--open mouthed and
depressed in the corner of
Broadway and 7th.

Maybe his luck would change.
Or maybe he would realize
that you don't know what you
have until it's gone.
Tuesday, June 24th, 2008
11:44 pm
neutrality is like the feelings i try so hard to hide. my pallor is pale:the dull rush of blood to my cheeks, flushes them just enough to hurt. to embarrass, to reveal. maybe im imposing, but i know just enough to be dangerous, in the awkward blundering artless way of mine. the one you find charming at best. its a fact, i love you. i may forget this--but ill never forgive how i feel. nostalgic and content, i decide not to distract or ruin with noise, crowds never did well with me. hold my hand, its the only part of me that is left..you already have my <3.
Saturday, March 8th, 2008
1:29 am
Midnight Bowl of Rice
It's amazing how I
How they
my brain processes us as still close, still friends..almost pathetic, how my predator light fails to turn on, how I'm stuck in the dark..again-i won't rely on your false promises, they only lure me in the open, vulnerable, alone..fragile to your derisions and disappointed hopes blanket my mud colored eyes like water stains..forgive me, my rambling disturbed your sleep.i can tell-you roam the streets like you're lost..how can you pretend so? on paths well worn and creased with our steps and discarded lang syne? let's forget we have something, its nothing..i shall fade away into the night, I'm just a figment of your memory, created for comfort, torn by passions.gone are the illusion, out here the stars intoxicate me, velvety vapor caresses my cheek..maybe I'm solo, but independence is the freedom i breathe on, parasitic in my love..the love lost and longed for in yellow mornings and passing hunger phases. you can forget me, i cannot forgive that easily, chocolate cannot be bought for so low a price. pray
what do i receive in return?
i shall not allow adhesive
or blank pages again.

Current Mood: chipper
Friday, January 25th, 2008
7:31 pm
we never know the victim

Shes euphoric, a drug i allow to 
replace the love like feeling of 
succumbing to chocolate
 in the midnight hours of 
truth, where no light so clearly distorts 
my alien features as dim ones:
russian nose, asian eyes, pale skin.
I try to contemplate life through 
finger blotted lenses, 
bacterial scum squirming around, 
i focus harder. oh god they're people 
living breathing people who shuffle past 
sifting through the sands of time, 
youthful and blissfully unaware of their
own insignificance..
if most adore their superficiality, 
what of their twisted minds?

Current Mood: crushed
Saturday, January 12th, 2008
9:14 am
Her Name was Maris
Haunted by chemical solutions
i once blithely believed were
needed for my simple existence
I write so flawlessly just for a 
glimpse of your dimples, 
to your left eye, so changing in 
this dim light 
the ecru thoughts of a debutant
whose lovely eyes wander from 
the white accepted standards of 
her upside down society to the 
pleasures of the forbidden flesh, 
linked arms with outcasts, a  
single word from her stops the 
clock in his unbidden tracks, 
people gawk at her audacity
for a while, it suits her mood,
the volatility of the thing she 
embodies and venerates the 
most, with crushed reeds and
soft pale hands
she stands before her lover
embracing his hard kisses
and tolerating the after spray
salt stinging on her full lips
for the sake of unbound love 
and her reflection in his image
she leaps from crumbling walls 
to his elusive body,
scrabbling to clutch 
what even weathered bluejackets
have failed to define
this obsession, this lifelong 
adoration of the Sea
Unfurled like the sails of a Ship
Her black tresses roll around 
the base of her shoulders and 
statuesque attire, clinging so 
effortlessly to her fading umbra
Forgive me, I no longer know
how to emulate this 
affection burning in my chest 
for the smile i once
breathed for, lived for
and now it's diminishing glory
in my memory bank screeches 
every time i read a word from you
Thursday, December 27th, 2007
1:20 pm
pity parts the future from the past
if i could be <<<<<<-(chorus)
you emo princess.
i would hide beneath
the play hard to get
look you do lovingly passed
but down is up
if i could just love you

wait for the sun to grow cold
as i lunge for our crash embrace >>>>(verse)
on dying cars

if i could be <<<<<<-(chorus)
you emo princess.
i would hide above
the covers you so lovingly
but tucked is ripped when you
turn away from the open door

and daddy's cruel stance
let me stay i cry between closed fists >>>>> (verse 2)
as i am led away to forbidden cars

if i could be <<<<<<<-(chorus)
you emo princess.
i would lie next to your beating heart,
lovingly breathing
vanilla and living skin
but skin is useless
against the growing pains i face

no longer pleasing you
i hide away distancing myself from >>>>>>(verse 3)
your pretty pretty face
if you would let me
be your emo princess.
Tuesday, November 13th, 2007
9:37 pm
The grey dawn letters..
Im burning in december,
there is a pain in my chest 
like my soul is being eaten 
slowly piece by piece
each memory 
being dissolved
in flames,
consuming slick
painted images
with cruel finesse
i just want this
to end,  but if it means the end of you,
ill faithfully suffer through
til the bitter dissolve
of our charred hearts and 
dying embers.
Monday, October 29th, 2007
12:24 pm
Feelings of helplessness swirl around me like black tendrils, gripping my body into a rigid paralysis, I can do nothing. My minds screams it is none of your business, my heart whispers no, stop him at all costs.  His pale long fingers snake forward, slipping fire-edged pieces of paper out of their manila protection.  They flutter to his lap. Yuriki notices, the slight movement of his lips in a fish sound, silent gaping mouth. He locks his fingers around the fragile bodies, I'm afraid they'll break in his indifferent clutches.  The black shine of his shirt matches the darkness of his dejected mood, repressed anger springing forth from him like spewing lava. Kinetic energy flows from my dark eyes, willing his to meet mine. He slowly looks up from his hushed conversations with Yuki. One sentence spills form my sad trembling lips: "That was messed up, Ivan." "What?" I shake my head, his muted confusion is genuine, as my eyes point at Yuriki's fingers, clutching Eva's secret letters, rapt in reading her fatal goodbye.  "What?" He repeats again, this time, annoyance shows apparent in his accented voice. "We're close like that.." "You don't let others read notes addressed to you." "Are you mad at me?" This time, he sounds indifferent to my feelings, trying to sound cool and composed underneath his spanish words. I try for no such emotion, allowing the truth to color my words to the emotions I feel. "No, I'm not mad..just, disappointed." I merge with the crowd, dissipating into the flow towards the open waiting vans.  Masia and Eva scan the crowd, I feel my eyes flicker behind me, unattached to the scene before me: Yuriki listening with shining eyes to an irritated Ivan, moved to emotions, Eva hoping, praying no one else has read her honest confessions.. I want to make secret signs with my liquid mirrors, known as eyes, that I have failed. All is lost should circle my forehead, as I duck into the warm van, my foggy breath the only sure proof that I still live, guilty as charged.

Current Mood: discontent
Tuesday, October 23rd, 2007
8:10 pm
Declarations of the Wooden Mouth

Took the heat today. 
Let the embarrassment come up to play about my light brown sugar cheeks,  defensive in my speech, hair in front of my trembling face, tears about to roll.  Fine, let it come, leth te emotion finally show. I thought with a defiance I didn't feel, didn't grasp too firmly with my scrabbling mind, which tried so pathetically to grab these loose-end thoughts, like a puppeteer who can't control his own features let alone that of his puppets. So different from the couple minutes, when I bowed my head in poetry to the heavens above, waiting for roses from the blue radiant sky.  Singing softly snatches of songs I had memorized beside my rumpled bed, I stepped out of the dark classroom, leaving still the rushed harried twitches of my polished fingernails, shined to a blood red.  Why is it named blood red? It's not even the color of blood..more like the color we associate sacrifice with, the kind of love, people have forgotten these days. blood red. it's heart's love red.  Sweaty hand-prints left on steel lockers, painted royal purple, leave me feeling identity-theft, everything I am, will be, was, is in that one singular fading hand-print, like a breath on a frozen window, so quick to spew hotness, but just as quickly gone, leaving no trace of remembrance to those around it. Something of no importance. I shook my head, clicking my tongue, underneath the sleek wisps of midnight falling over my face, in a black sea, rippling past my ears in the low wind, in the grey shadows, made on the un-cracked concrete, my self-portrait on the pavement. 

Current Mood: enthralled
Sunday, October 21st, 2007
1:46 pm
the grey dawn letters...
Fingers numb, the only feeling is being taken fiercely by the cold, iron-gripping my fingers as I type word after word. An icy October wind chilling my blue liquid veins. I hope that this isn't too faulty on my part, but full of cold-cuts and half-drunk natural water, I can't be blamed. Humming The Hush Sound, the only thing calming keeping me is the thought of your nose tipped into my waiting shoulder, friendship linking us like emperor penguins:forever. Maybe the acidic fluid I allowed to overflow my eyes was too sullied for you, but the dawn star is rising as I ride the Mtro to work. 5:30 am, no one inhabits the trains at this time, except hollowed out smokers with vacant eyes, tweeds, and the occasional gum wrap kid trying to make for than a buck a day, such as myself, warming myself with cheap black coffee and the knowledge I don't live off my means, writing. I'd be broke off of fire-stained sonnets, dark child-like expressions sold for a pence and mediocre half novels, left unfinished due to my paranoia of ends. May this explain my taciturn mood of our wrapped up arms in the sunlight and the need of silver rings guaranteed proof that I'll wait, a promise entombed in ashen metal. goodbye and good luck for now, as i pass out of the grumbling plexiglass doors running, amid young Cockney mothers and veteran sailor's curses, mostly to myself, as i fly to work, late, sweating, and noticed. I pat my cheek to ensure warmth is trapped in translucent skin, somewhere, underneath the layers of Peruvian scarfs and English jeans. I slink through, a poorly thought out feat on my part, 6'2" can't be hid by partially closed 5"7 cubicles. "Late again, are we, Mr. Faro?" "Yes, sir. I'm was dreaming on Egyptian time." "Really? well, Egypt isn't the one keeping you fed, boy! Get to work!!" He bellowed with a affectionate roar, hard to catch in his bulldog demeanor and slit eyes.. But the sly smile aimed at my back was enough. THANK YOU, FATHER, I thought with a sheepish grin, as i began my morning article.

Current Mood: blank
1:37 pm
"There were three, count them three,
children playing on the beach,
they were eager to learn, to be
taught and to teach.
There's Veronica, she's biting her
lips as she watches the waves go white
at the tip..
and there's Vada, radiating with
joy, and luckily she still can't
stand the sight of a boy.
lastly, there's Dave, his hair
denses in the wind, as he wonders
what loves is, and why it has to end. "

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