<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792</id><updated>2011-10-10T11:15:37.336+11:00</updated><category term='JEFF BUCKLEY'/><category term='gorecki'/><category term='angus and julia stone'/><title type='text'>DIRTY WORDS OF DARING LIVES</title><subtitle type='html'>TRAUMA PATIENTS DOIN' IT FOR THE KIDS</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-4299747893034208985</id><published>2011-10-10T11:15:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T11:15:37.350+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am so tired of the jealousy.&lt;br /&gt;You do what you want, and I let you.&lt;br /&gt;I let you because I want you to know I trust you again.&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know that you can trust me, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have I ever done,&lt;br /&gt;that makes you so insecure in yourself?&lt;br /&gt;What I have done that stops you believing me&lt;br /&gt;when I tell you the truth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You were the one who ruined this. Not me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-4299747893034208985?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/4299747893034208985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-am-so-tired-of-jealousy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/4299747893034208985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/4299747893034208985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-am-so-tired-of-jealousy.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-2068476019863998407</id><published>2011-05-16T19:15:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T19:15:41.956+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>CHICAGO; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so insane that it's true.&lt;br /&gt;You know that girl you said I'd meet?&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've got something to confess.&lt;br /&gt;She picked me up the other day.&lt;br /&gt;Asked me if she reminded me of anyone;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just laughed and lit a cigarette,&lt;br /&gt;Said, "that's impossible to do".&lt;br /&gt;My life's become much simpler since.&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't fluctuate so much.&lt;br /&gt;Up and down. Back again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm still crying out for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still think about you time to time,&lt;br /&gt;Think about you lying there.&lt;br /&gt;Those blankets always lie so still&lt;br /&gt;Nothing breathes here in the cold;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing moves, or even smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking of some suicides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there's bars out here for miles and miles,&lt;br /&gt;I'll drink down my apologies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sorry for the every kiss&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The every one you wasted back.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the thing you said was true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to die alone and sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wind's feeling real and sharp these days,&lt;br /&gt;Reminds me of you and it hurts me some.&lt;br /&gt;I loved you once, and this girl is sweet.&lt;br /&gt;I'll let you go eventually.&lt;br /&gt;I never thought I'd feel so blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck, Chicago I'm crazy for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-2068476019863998407?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/2068476019863998407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2011/05/chicago-its-so-insane-that-its-true.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/2068476019863998407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/2068476019863998407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2011/05/chicago-its-so-insane-that-its-true.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-9184886610741641005</id><published>2011-03-15T16:10:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T16:10:12.815+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I found you,&lt;br /&gt;and it doesn't feel as lovely as I thought.&lt;br /&gt;It's actually quite funny, in fact,&lt;br /&gt;a sense of light-heartedness is a terrific thing to have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So farewell, I've stopped searching.&lt;br /&gt;I know you, where and who you are,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what you did and what you meant.&lt;br /&gt;Where you disappeared to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You helped.&lt;br /&gt;So thank you.&lt;br /&gt;Oh goodness,&lt;br /&gt;I could not stop laughing if I tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I feel beautiful.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-9184886610741641005?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/9184886610741641005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-found-you-and-it-doesnt-feel-as.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9184886610741641005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9184886610741641005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-found-you-and-it-doesnt-feel-as.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-7286010115629268862</id><published>2011-03-01T23:08:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T23:08:36.291+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Do you ever not trust &lt;i&gt;yourself&lt;/i&gt; to trust &lt;i&gt;someone else&lt;/i&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, for a second I thought it was an accident that I'd received it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-7286010115629268862?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/7286010115629268862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2011/03/do-you-ever-not-trust-yourself-to-trust.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/7286010115629268862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/7286010115629268862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2011/03/do-you-ever-not-trust-yourself-to-trust.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-4038279076264218629</id><published>2010-10-02T20:36:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T20:36:13.410+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Do you ever think... &lt;i&gt;How could I be so wrong about someone.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-4038279076264218629?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/4038279076264218629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/10/do-you-ever-think.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/4038279076264218629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/4038279076264218629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/10/do-you-ever-think.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-7912377512060734165</id><published>2010-09-25T17:09:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T17:09:55.184+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night's love affair is looking vulnerable in my bed. I want to wipe out all the sad ideas that come to me when I am holding you. I want to erase every nasty thought that bugs me every day of every week. We’ve got obsessions, you never tell me what it is that makes you strong, and what it is that makes you weak.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-7912377512060734165?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/7912377512060734165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/09/last-nights-love-affair-is-looking.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/7912377512060734165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/7912377512060734165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/09/last-nights-love-affair-is-looking.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-9008773764065700613</id><published>2010-09-11T13:52:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T13:52:10.618+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/TIr83mBfRVI/AAAAAAAAAfI/YROe-eWpCJ8/s1600/tumblr_l7uruyYxt11qzjb11o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/TIr83mBfRVI/AAAAAAAAAfI/YROe-eWpCJ8/s640/tumblr_l7uruyYxt11qzjb11o1_500.jpg" width="494" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-9008773764065700613?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/9008773764065700613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9008773764065700613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9008773764065700613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/TIr83mBfRVI/AAAAAAAAAfI/YROe-eWpCJ8/s72-c/tumblr_l7uruyYxt11qzjb11o1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-6784258529772364195</id><published>2010-07-16T14:14:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T14:14:19.368+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>the one thing holding me together&lt;br /&gt;broke every promise ever made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what's stopping me from shattering into a million tiny pieces?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who will hold me together, now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-6784258529772364195?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/6784258529772364195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/07/one-thing-holding-me-together-broke.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/6784258529772364195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/6784258529772364195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/07/one-thing-holding-me-together-broke.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-2901515120191588422</id><published>2010-07-14T23:50:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-14T23:50:41.547+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I read all the transcripts from when we first started dating.&lt;br /&gt;Everything I feared has happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-2901515120191588422?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/2901515120191588422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-read-all-transcripts-from-when-we.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/2901515120191588422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/2901515120191588422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-read-all-transcripts-from-when-we.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-6667058559220300266</id><published>2010-07-14T13:53:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-14T13:53:01.182+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I want my other half back, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-6667058559220300266?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/6667058559220300266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-want-my-other-half-back-too.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/6667058559220300266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/6667058559220300266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-want-my-other-half-back-too.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-3349672572507981199</id><published>2010-07-02T14:12:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T14:12:25.225+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I wish I had beautiful photos of myself to one day show my children.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was one of the beautiful people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-3349672572507981199?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/3349672572507981199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-wish-i-had-beautiful-photos-of-myself.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3349672572507981199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3349672572507981199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-wish-i-had-beautiful-photos-of-myself.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-9030603924904397238</id><published>2010-07-02T12:56:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T12:56:34.706+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='JEFF BUCKLEY'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Looking out the door I see the rain, fall upon the funeral mourners&lt;br /&gt;Parading in the wake of sad relations, as their shoes fill up with water.&lt;br /&gt;And maybe I'm too young to keep good love from going wrong&lt;br /&gt;But tonight you're on my mind, so you never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Broken down and hungry for your love, with no way to feed it.&lt;br /&gt;Where are you tonight, child you know how much I need it.&lt;br /&gt;Too young to hold on, and too old to just break free and run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes a man gets carried away, when he feels like he should be having his fun.&lt;br /&gt;And much too blind to see the damage he's done&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes a man must awake, to find that really, he has no one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'll wait for you, and I'll burn.&lt;br /&gt;Will I ever see your sweet return?&lt;br /&gt;Oh, will I ever learn?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, lover. You should've come over.&lt;br /&gt;'Cause it's not too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lonely is the room, the bed is made, the open window lets the rain in.&lt;br /&gt;Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him&lt;br /&gt;My body yearns and turns for a sleep that won't ever come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when I sleep so soft against her.&lt;br /&gt;It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter.&lt;br /&gt;It's never over, she's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well maybe I'm just too young&lt;br /&gt;To keep good love from going wrong.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, lover. You should've come over,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause it's not too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I feel too young to hold on,&lt;br /&gt;And I'm much too old to break free and run.&lt;br /&gt;Too deaf, dumb and blind to see the damage I've done.&lt;br /&gt;Sweet love, you should've come over&lt;br /&gt;Oh, love, well I'm waiting for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lover, you should've come over, 'cause it's not too late.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-9030603924904397238?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/9030603924904397238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/07/looking-out-door-i-see-rain-fall-upon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9030603924904397238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9030603924904397238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/07/looking-out-door-i-see-rain-fall-upon.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-1666190812661172904</id><published>2010-06-26T22:55:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T22:55:10.688+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My hair smells of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-1666190812661172904?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/1666190812661172904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-hair-smells-of-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/1666190812661172904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/1666190812661172904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-hair-smells-of-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-7255297631952560795</id><published>2010-06-18T21:51:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T21:51:29.922+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>you'd rather spend your nights alone.i think i'm alone, too.i think that you maybe don't love me.this isn't something we canlet go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-7255297631952560795?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/7255297631952560795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/06/youd-rather-spend-your-nights-alone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/7255297631952560795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/7255297631952560795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2010/06/youd-rather-spend-your-nights-alone.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-9218042147324199205</id><published>2009-11-21T13:20:00.004+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T12:59:24.992+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="340" width="560"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mYIfiQlfaas&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mYIfiQlfaas&amp;amp;hl=en_GB&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm in love with the things that make me think of you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waking up without feeling alone.&lt;br /&gt;Running through sprinklers on days much too hot,&lt;br /&gt;The crackle of fire on days far too cold.&lt;br /&gt;Walking back home feeling better, not worse.&lt;br /&gt;Seeing G-rated movies,&lt;br /&gt;in all three dimensions.&lt;br /&gt;Having your hand to hold in strange company.&lt;br /&gt;Knowing you're mine, with no looking back.&lt;br /&gt;The freckles on my shoulders,&lt;br /&gt;you kissed me better when the sun burnt my skin.&lt;br /&gt;Days gone by, immortalised in analogue snapshots.&lt;br /&gt;"In A Relationship with Chris Milne"&lt;br /&gt;Clicking your name and seeing mine, too.&lt;br /&gt;Pinkie promises.&lt;br /&gt;Being terrible at every video game,&lt;br /&gt;except Mario Kart 64.&lt;br /&gt;Summer. Winter. Autumn. Spring.&lt;br /&gt;Matching T-Shirts.&lt;br /&gt;Missing you within seconds.&lt;br /&gt;Hoping if you read this, you'll come home sooner than later.&lt;br /&gt;Thinking of you when I should be washing up.&lt;br /&gt;Missin' your kissin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come home. Come home. Come home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-9218042147324199205?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/9218042147324199205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-in-love-with-things-that-make-me.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9218042147324199205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9218042147324199205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-in-love-with-things-that-make-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-3194051126422945777</id><published>2009-06-18T18:12:00.006+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:00:03.641+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I walk around the streets like they're a song.&lt;br /&gt;I put one foot in front of the other&lt;br /&gt;crunch&lt;br /&gt;crunch&lt;br /&gt;crunch&lt;br /&gt;It's been raining as long as I can remember&lt;br /&gt;but the leaves are still so rough.&lt;br /&gt;I tap my cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;The red hot ash fizzles out on the sidewalk&lt;br /&gt;beneath a dripping branch.&lt;br /&gt;My legs extend to an imaginary beat&lt;br /&gt;Sweet, slow and sorrowful,&lt;br /&gt;a tune I know only as&lt;br /&gt;betrayal.&lt;br /&gt;I knew myself so long ago.&lt;br /&gt;I knew myself and I knew you too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What now to carry us through?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-3194051126422945777?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/3194051126422945777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/06/brittany.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3194051126422945777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3194051126422945777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/06/brittany.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-3342481565478089322</id><published>2009-04-18T17:59:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:00:18.288+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Someone lent me a burnt copy of my life last night. It was pretty fucking good.&lt;br /&gt;You know, for bootleg and all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-3342481565478089322?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/3342481565478089322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/04/temika.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3342481565478089322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3342481565478089322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/04/temika.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-8222307838060291768</id><published>2009-04-15T14:14:00.004+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:01:24.943+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So many things about you.&lt;br /&gt;I could always remember, and&lt;br /&gt;never forget.&lt;br /&gt;Your perfect lips&lt;br /&gt;smiling eyes&lt;br /&gt;warm skin&lt;br /&gt;could never excuse your&lt;br /&gt;beating&lt;br /&gt;heart.&lt;br /&gt;Steady as a drum,&lt;br /&gt;my insecurities caught the light&lt;br /&gt;of the gleam in your eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Are you mine?&lt;br /&gt;Messages never relayed from&lt;br /&gt;my burning ears&lt;br /&gt;to my darkened mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching you fade away&lt;br /&gt;from the happiness I knew&lt;br /&gt;kills me.&lt;br /&gt;How long will it be&lt;br /&gt;before you see what I am?&lt;br /&gt;before you know how lucky I am?&lt;br /&gt;before you get sick of the bullshit?&lt;br /&gt;No one&lt;br /&gt;dreams of you like&lt;br /&gt;I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't wake me up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-8222307838060291768?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/8222307838060291768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/04/michelle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/8222307838060291768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/8222307838060291768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/04/michelle.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-6669081253821733368</id><published>2009-04-13T12:57:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:01:38.953+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mornings &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; the hardest.&lt;br /&gt;I know it's true, but&lt;br /&gt;fuck.&lt;br /&gt;I keep falling back asleep to pass the time..&lt;br /&gt;When I wake up&lt;br /&gt;it's only been an hour&lt;br /&gt;and I only miss you more.&lt;br /&gt;You're plenty charming,&lt;br /&gt;baby.&lt;br /&gt;I could sleep all day..&lt;br /&gt;I'd only dream of you.&lt;br /&gt;I've thought about leaving here&lt;br /&gt;crawling to where you are -&lt;br /&gt;it would take me days&lt;br /&gt;but I'd do it if I had to.&lt;br /&gt;I cling onto every thing you say&lt;br /&gt;Every thing you write&lt;br /&gt;Every thing you love.&lt;br /&gt;I grasp the likeness of you&lt;br /&gt;in hopes that you'll come back sooner.&lt;br /&gt;It's a shame&lt;br /&gt;that &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you never do&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-6669081253821733368?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/6669081253821733368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/04/madeline.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/6669081253821733368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/6669081253821733368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/04/madeline.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-722972164610333457</id><published>2009-04-11T12:44:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:01:52.078+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've always loved the idea&lt;br /&gt;of cold summers, and colder&lt;br /&gt;winters.&lt;br /&gt;I'm constantly drawn in to the&lt;br /&gt;chaos of monotony,&lt;br /&gt;days and days of aching&lt;br /&gt;similarites.&lt;br /&gt;I become mesmerised so easily&lt;br /&gt;when I hear the voices different from my own&lt;br /&gt;and think about you beside me&lt;br /&gt;enjoying it as much as I do.&lt;br /&gt;Oh baby, &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;London calls&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;With every inch of my body,&lt;br /&gt;I long for the thrills and chills and spills of&lt;br /&gt;the bustling city.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing pleases me more,&lt;br /&gt;except you,&lt;br /&gt;and warm nights in your arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine how much warmer it will seem&lt;br /&gt;when the rest of our world is&lt;br /&gt;four degrees.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-722972164610333457?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/722972164610333457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/04/olivia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/722972164610333457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/722972164610333457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/04/olivia.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-1209337335639909207</id><published>2009-04-01T13:13:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:02:42.912+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='angus and julia stone'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Is there a cure for this pain?&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I&lt;br /&gt;I should have something to eat.&lt;br /&gt;Food won't take this emptiness away,&lt;br /&gt;I'm hungry for you&lt;br /&gt;my love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I made it through another day&lt;br /&gt;in my cold room&lt;br /&gt;on scraps and pieces&lt;br /&gt;left behind.&lt;br /&gt;I survive on the memory of&lt;br /&gt;you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there a remedy for waiting&lt;br /&gt;for loves victorious return?&lt;br /&gt;Is there a remedy for hating&lt;br /&gt;every second that I'm&lt;br /&gt;without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of me is all for you&lt;br /&gt;You're all I see.&lt;br /&gt;You're all I need.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-1209337335639909207?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/1209337335639909207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/04/julia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/1209337335639909207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/1209337335639909207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/04/julia.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-8922744087370912320</id><published>2009-03-31T13:06:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:02:21.436+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When I think of you,&lt;br /&gt;I feel pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;I want to talk to you.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to be mean.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to tell you&lt;br /&gt;how terrific it is to have what you&lt;br /&gt;want.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to make things harder&lt;br /&gt;And God, I know it will.&lt;br /&gt;But I think of you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You no longer make me insecure.&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel threatened,&lt;br /&gt;I'm not paranoid every time&lt;br /&gt;your name pops up.&lt;br /&gt;And so, I search for you.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder,&lt;br /&gt;If I made the moves..&lt;br /&gt;Would you be there, and could I&lt;br /&gt;count on you not to take it out&lt;br /&gt;on him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my apology.&lt;br /&gt;For not waiting,&lt;br /&gt;for not caring,&lt;br /&gt;for not being &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fair &lt;/span&gt;to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;been&lt;/span&gt; you.&lt;br /&gt;And while we may have different ways&lt;br /&gt;of dealing,&lt;br /&gt;I know what it's like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you read this,&lt;br /&gt;I'm just too sorry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-8922744087370912320?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/8922744087370912320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/charlotte.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/8922744087370912320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/8922744087370912320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/charlotte.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-9025451204944535300</id><published>2009-03-29T19:11:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:02:58.349+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Am I amazing&lt;br /&gt;Or just amazing in comparison?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-9025451204944535300?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/9025451204944535300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/eliza.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9025451204944535300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9025451204944535300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/eliza.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-6371512116912988445</id><published>2009-03-24T16:34:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:03:31.859+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The things that used to complete me now terrify me. Products of bliss are now things of nightmares. A flower, a flame, an electric fan. Images behind my eyes are a scattered sea of paranoia. My skin itches until I scratch it, and then I cannot stop. I look down, and my neck is red and raw.&lt;br /&gt;I lower the doses of the things I need, up the load of the ones I want. A temporary distraction, an increasing frenzy of an imaginary psychosis.&lt;br /&gt;Water gets replaced by an eternal thirst. Indie rock replaced by silent screams. Dark circles cloud around my eyes, my jaw cracks, my ears ring. These are all I hear.&lt;br /&gt;Each of my bones snap, one by one. Like a cymbal, thunder crashing all around me -- crack, crack, crack. I twist, contort, writh in pain and no one helps. No one knows. The image in the mirror is strange and sad, I feel sick at the sight of the monster I have become.&lt;br /&gt;But it wasn't always like this. My fever cooled, my eyes relaxed.. I was calm. The lights were shining bright down upon me, and I was in the dark. I lay naked among strangers, riddled with imperfections, and still I was not phased. I was so comfortable in my own skin. I was euphoric and ecstatic, nothing brought me down.&lt;br /&gt;I soaked sugar cubes in something sweet, bought a one-way ticket to a foreign place. Every trip was different, but always smooth as silk.&lt;br /&gt;Like a moth to the flame, the city lights drew me closer and closer. Radiohead played 11 hours on repeat, and we all drove south from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicotine nights served insomnia well, but now sleep is all that saves me from myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's harder than a teenage erection to find peace in the middle of my nights. So many shitty thoughts rushing through my mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-6371512116912988445?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/6371512116912988445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/elsie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/6371512116912988445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/6371512116912988445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/elsie.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-2948377948059514846</id><published>2009-03-18T15:16:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:04:03.017+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oh God, how I miss those nights.&lt;br /&gt;Phone calls for hours filled with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Do you remember?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I can't believe you did that.."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We dragged the same old thing out&lt;br /&gt;again and again&lt;br /&gt;just to feel closer,&lt;br /&gt;to make up for the distance between us.&lt;br /&gt;When did we get so far ahead of&lt;br /&gt;ourselves?&lt;br /&gt;What made us miss each other way too much&lt;br /&gt;but become too busy for a simple&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hello?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-2948377948059514846?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/2948377948059514846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/luca.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/2948377948059514846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/2948377948059514846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/luca.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-3417079712221118998</id><published>2009-03-16T15:03:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:04:22.742+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There's a 5 o clock shadow in your mind&lt;br /&gt;Messing with my emotions.&lt;br /&gt;Clouded thoughts and&lt;br /&gt;awkward tensions..&lt;br /&gt;Nights out become nights in&lt;br /&gt;when we're both sitting in our own heads.&lt;br /&gt;It's the combination of you and me,&lt;br /&gt;Baby we've created a storm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-3417079712221118998?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/3417079712221118998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/lolita.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3417079712221118998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3417079712221118998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/lolita.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-1519408126463986255</id><published>2009-03-13T17:18:00.004+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:04:41.562+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gorecki'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If I should die this very moment,&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't fear.&lt;br /&gt;For I've never known completeness&lt;br /&gt;like being here&lt;br /&gt;Wrapped in the warmth of you,&lt;br /&gt;Loving every breath of you.&lt;br /&gt;Still my heart this moment&lt;br /&gt;or it might burst.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could we stay right here&lt;br /&gt;until the end of time, until the earth stops turning?&lt;br /&gt;Wanna love you til the seas run dry&lt;br /&gt;I've found the one I've waited for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this time I loved you and never known your face&lt;br /&gt;All this time I missed you and searched this human race&lt;br /&gt;Here is true peace,&lt;br /&gt;Here my heart knows calm&lt;br /&gt;Safe in your soul&lt;br /&gt;Bathed in your sighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I've known, all I've done&lt;br /&gt;All I've felt was leading to this&lt;br /&gt;All I've known, all I've done&lt;br /&gt;All I've felt was leading to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wanna stay right here&lt;br /&gt;til the end of time, til the earth stops turning.&lt;br /&gt;Wanna love you til the seas run dry.&lt;br /&gt;I've found the one I've waited for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-1519408126463986255?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/1519408126463986255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/clementine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/1519408126463986255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/1519408126463986255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/clementine.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-7980457579435413776</id><published>2009-03-10T13:37:00.005+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:05:44.872+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You're so&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; horrible&lt;/span&gt; in my dreams.&lt;br /&gt;You're so different to anything I've ever known you to be.&lt;br /&gt;You &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;curse&lt;/span&gt; me.&lt;br /&gt;You &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;glare&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;You &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hate&lt;/span&gt; me for the&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; whore&lt;/span&gt; I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I still love you&lt;/span&gt; so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wake up crying,&lt;br /&gt;And you're &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; there to comfort me &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;This is why you're all I need.&lt;br /&gt;This is why &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;it's always been you&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-7980457579435413776?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/7980457579435413776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/youre-so-horrible-in-my-dreams.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/7980457579435413776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/7980457579435413776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/youre-so-horrible-in-my-dreams.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-4722960626366766863</id><published>2009-03-09T23:01:00.006+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:06:12.052+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I don't get sick of the bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;I can sit on my bed for hours, staring into my own eyes and wondering.. Am I really peering at my soul? I can't see an end.. And I know I'm not this deep.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe all I'm seeing is a shallow girl, glaring at herself in the mirror, questioning why there isn't more to her.&lt;br /&gt;But fuck it, if I'm so skin deep then here's what I have to say about myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can look really, really fucking good some days. Damn it bitch, I look better than you ever did standing in my place. Fuck you make me feel like shit, but I am so much fucking better than you. I don't know why I can never see that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I appreciate you for what you were, and I hate you for what you are. So fuck off out of my mind, and stop making me so fucking insecure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 78%;"&gt;Just clearing my throat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-4722960626366766863?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/4722960626366766863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/ingrid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/4722960626366766863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/4722960626366766863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/ingrid.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-3436915152599172548</id><published>2009-03-09T19:33:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:06:26.730+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The television screams at me from the other side of the room.&lt;br /&gt;Reality programs, so far from what I know the world to be.&lt;br /&gt;People wearing hats to hide their inevitable premature baldness.&lt;br /&gt;Thin, blonde women speaking only what is fed to them.&lt;br /&gt;Rough cheeked men&lt;br /&gt;With raspy voices more powerful than many of the leaders in our world today.&lt;br /&gt;Is this how life is supposed to be lived?&lt;br /&gt;False confidence silenced by a six figure sum?&lt;br /&gt;Am I supposed to sing, dance, lose weight, win money,&lt;br /&gt;Repair the damaged lines I've crossed,&lt;br /&gt;Find myself amongst the shit I live in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're beautiful, willing creatures that shine even on their bad days.&lt;br /&gt;And behind our small screens, nothing can harm them.&lt;br /&gt;No one knows the meaning of reality,&lt;br /&gt;Because nothing is real any more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-3436915152599172548?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/3436915152599172548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/katie.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3436915152599172548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3436915152599172548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/katie.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-6313850261685299867</id><published>2009-03-06T21:48:00.004+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:06:53.100+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I never knew I was unhappy&lt;br /&gt;until you made me smile.&lt;br /&gt;My rusty jaw creaked as I began to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;I told you,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I haven't done this for a while.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-6313850261685299867?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/6313850261685299867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-never-knew-i-was-unhappy-until-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/6313850261685299867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/6313850261685299867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-never-knew-i-was-unhappy-until-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-506857960195524240</id><published>2009-03-03T14:39:00.005+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:08:03.044+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No one knows me like I do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah,&lt;br /&gt;You're getting pretty fucking close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But every lie I've ever told.&lt;br /&gt;Every time I've gone to say&lt;br /&gt;I love you..&lt;br /&gt;But been too scared of losing you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have no fucking clue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time after time I've ran from what I wanted&lt;br /&gt;Scared of failing,&lt;br /&gt;Scared of breaking down.&lt;br /&gt;I used to be so strong,&lt;br /&gt;So in control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, when you came I felt so powerful again.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing stopped me,&lt;br /&gt;Nothing made me weak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But you don't know me like I know myself&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;You don't deserve to,&lt;br /&gt;You're better than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're better than the constant insecurities.&lt;br /&gt;Paranoia.&lt;br /&gt;Dependence.&lt;br /&gt;Reassurances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a little bit like me,&lt;br /&gt;But about a hundred billion times better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-506857960195524240?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/506857960195524240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/anabel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/506857960195524240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/506857960195524240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/anabel.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-3058742336826742755</id><published>2009-03-03T12:30:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:08:18.760+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tonight I went to the jetty.&lt;br /&gt;The water seemed warm, then again&lt;br /&gt;I only dipped my fingers in&lt;br /&gt;once.&lt;br /&gt;It was calm, and still, and&lt;br /&gt;quiet and peaceful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I could hear was my own happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sat beside me,&lt;br /&gt;we drank Red Bull and kissed until&lt;br /&gt;Our lungs gave out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You lifted my shirt,&lt;br /&gt;I felt silly under the harsh,&lt;br /&gt;yellow lights.&lt;br /&gt;I felt like someone was watching,&lt;br /&gt;but I was comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;I knew that that someone was you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to preserve you.&lt;br /&gt;Keep things just&lt;br /&gt;the way they are.&lt;br /&gt;But being completely yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is the only thing I can remember&lt;br /&gt;Ever wanting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-3058742336826742755?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/3058742336826742755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/lily.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3058742336826742755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/3058742336826742755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/lily.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-2005343611309290974</id><published>2009-03-03T12:27:00.004+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:09:17.621+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Something really frightening happened to me this morning.&lt;br /&gt;The same rush of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;fear&lt;/span&gt; and adrenaline soared through me, as when you hear terrible news. Like someone has died, or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you have a black spot on your brain&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;First, your mouth goes dry. Your ears block up, you don't want to listen to a single word anyone has to say. The room goes dark, you can only concentrate on what is directly in front of you.&lt;br /&gt;All you can hear is the intense &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;beating&lt;/span&gt; of your own heart, painfully loud &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rips&lt;/span&gt; of your lungs- inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale; the muffled sounds of people trying to reach you in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you manage to find a distraction through your tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, I couldn't find a distraction. There was nothing to distract me. The only other person in the house was on the phone talking about mangroves, and I'd done everything I wanted to do this morning already. I was trapped within my own insecurities. Shit. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have no way out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything came out at once. After biting my tongue for what seemed like forever, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything rolled off it like smooth, cold ice&lt;/span&gt;. Each word I spoke, I regretted immensely. But stopping seemed pointless. I was halfway gone to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;complete insanity&lt;/span&gt;. And &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;rationality&lt;/span&gt; was over the fucking hills and far, far away by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oh, God.&lt;/span&gt; What have I said? What did I ask for, knowing that all this paranoid nonsense was tapping on the back of my teeth? I didn't care. I wanted to find out. I wanted to see what you thought, what you said, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what you needed to say&lt;/span&gt;. I wanted to hear it from you, and I don't even know why. Because after I knew, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;it killed me&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You broke down my defences. I took a massive blow to the back of the head, and on impact, vomited up everything I had tried so hard to keep down. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm striving to be more than you&lt;/span&gt;, to be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;better&lt;/span&gt; for him, to be exactly what I really am without the falling back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth hurts, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;my truth hurts me&lt;/span&gt;. I am scared of being scared. I am tired, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I am foolish&lt;/span&gt;. But I am more than capable of loving someone more than I ever loved myself, and with my entire heart, soul, body, mind. I will not do him wrong. I will not cause him pain. I will not let him down. In my dreams, I will never stand a chance against you. But in my mind, I will always hope that I am wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-2005343611309290974?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/2005343611309290974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/amber.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/2005343611309290974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/2005343611309290974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/amber.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5568499651852261792.post-9100889184582727925</id><published>2009-03-03T12:25:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T13:08:56.260+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>People aren't supposed to move on that quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being with you makes me the happiest I've been in so fucking long. For real. No matter what you do, I could never stop loving you. I've loved you far too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is no way that your heart could entirely belong to me, is there? I read what you write, and it reminds me of how much you downplay what she really was to you. 2 years went by, countries were just paths you crossed to see her, you lived and breathed and changed to suit what she needed you to be. Then in the week that she left you loved me so much more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People aren't supposed to move on that quickly. And I don't know if I can bear the backlash.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5568499651852261792-9100889184582727925?l=dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/feeds/9100889184582727925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/jayne.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9100889184582727925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5568499651852261792/posts/default/9100889184582727925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dirtywordsofdaringlives.blogspot.com/2009/03/jayne.html' title=''/><author><name>Jayne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14647198359432069655</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DZemtc4ZU7c/S0Pjy58UozI/AAAAAAAAAeg/9hzFQBcM52E/S220/3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
