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From: "Qickless" <qickless@fastmail.fm>
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X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sun, 29 Dec 2002 16:10:01 +0530
Subject: {ASSM} Tomorrow (no sex, rom)
Date: Sun, 29 Dec 2002 18:10:11 -0500
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<1st attachment, "Tomorrow.txt" begin>
Disclaimer:
This is a work which may contain details that
are of erotic/graphic nature. If you are
disturbed by such material, or if you are under
the age of consent in your country, you are
advised to stop reading. As is understood, I
accept no responsibility for your actions.
Minors who choose to proceed are advised to go
to www.scarleteen.com.
To Desdmona
"The greatest thing that you'll ever learn is
to love and be loved."
-Moulin Rouge, the movie.
Tomorrow(no sex, rom)
by Qickless[qickless@fastmail.fm]
To my friend who finds this:
Comrade, you must grant me a wish. I'm a sorry
gent who believes enough in fate to put this to
pen. As I write this, I'm also proud enough to
demand a favor. You've probably read such
letters. Even if you haven't, you know what's
coming. Yes, dear comrade, I want you to keep
me out of the death squad. I want -you- to tell
her the news.
I should tell you more about her. She has this
strong body that glows in vivid red. She hates
caviar, loves to write and hides her eyes in
blocky square glasses. She wears my olive green
ring about her finger. And she smiles when you
pronounce her name wrong.
Tell her you serve with me and she'll let you
in, eyes bright. Break my news gently. She
won't cry when she hears. She'll drop the small
cup of coffee she made you and watch as it
smatters against the floor and she'll lean back
and close her eyes. Don't sit there staring at
her. Go to her, hold her tight and make her
cry. She'll try to push you away; don't let
her. Trust me. Hold her until she whimpers.
Please, please don't leave her alone.
Kiss her just below her right eye and tell her
everything's going to be okay. Get her a few
blankets and watch her while she sleeps.
Its when I think of her sleeping so alone that
I hate the bullet in my stomach. I hate my
blood scarcely restrained by taut white cloth.
I hate my gun. I hate this war.
Believe me comrade, time never stares you in
the face. It flows in bewitchingly small gasps
that'll force you to gaze at it in silent aches
and wantings; riding with you like a stallion
untamed, playing your wishes and hopes and lust
and love in a rubble of worn-out happened tarot
cards.
It happened to me once. Magic - an instant when
her strange eyes caressed mine with a conscious
touch, a moment later when she smiled. Small
gaps in too large a fabric, moments tiny and
large, worthless but precious.
Perhaps it's the wine I've drunk comrade - red
wine to soothe red wounds - but something tells
me it isn't. I know you won't let this letter
be. I know you'll seek her out.
I won't forget her, ever.
Fall in love with her, comrade. Help her forget
me.
--
Comments to qickless@fastmail.fm
Copyright:
Copyright (C) 2002 by Qickless
(qickless@fastmail.fm). This material may be
distributed only subject to the terms and
conditions set forth in the Open Publication
License, v1.0 or later.
The latest version of this license is available
at: http://www.opencontent.org/openpub/.
Distribution of the work or derivative of the
work in any standard (paper) book form is
prohibited unless prior permission is obtained
from the copyright holder.
Distribution of substantively modified versions
of this document is prohibited without the
explicit permission of the copyright holder.
<1st attachment end>
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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