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KakuHidan - Finally+pt2What amuses me most about him is probably his mouth. Not so much the mouth itself, but the way he uses it. No, not in the way that youre thinking of. Though he is good at that, I wont ever admit to him that he is. No, what I mean, is the way he talks.
I never cease to find that funny. I think I always will. Hes just so so eh whats the word
Or maybe just obsessively weird. Either way, I love him.
I remember when he first told me that. I guess he thought I was gonna kick him or something because he said it and then ran away. Really, really fast. Little shit. I had to chase him up and down the lair about seven times before someone (I think Itachi) tripped him and he sprawled out in front of me on his stomach. He looked up at me with this expression like I was gonna rape him or something.
No, I wouldnt.
Then again, as the saying goes,
Eastminster Crazyhouse - Ch2"That's so weird."
"I know. Just don't stare."
Lunch. He ate his lunch with eight other people, since mealtimes here were in designated groups of nine. The room they ate in was large, open, with scattered tables and white walls and floor.
Thank Jashin the tables were brown...
"I can't help it," Hidan growled through a sip of Gatorade. "It's... ew..."
His eyes were drawn to a couple sitting a few feet away. One of them was tall, very good looking, with long blonde hair that was tied back into a ponytail, bangs hiding his left eye. From what Hidan could see, his one visible eye was blue, but his face was turned so that his left eye was completely invisible. He was sitting across from a redhead, who was very short and very petite, with odd-colored eyes that looked red (but Hidan was sure they were brown). The two of them were leaning so close to each other that it was hard to tell who was who, the blonde muttering something into the redhead's ear.
"What're they called?" Hidan asked in a l
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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