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Mighty Illicit Liquid Kollections is back online for one farewell issue for all of those who didn't know about the end of MiLK... MiLK is dead, that is all. I No Longer Hear The Woman-Spirit In The Tree by M.C. Dillon I never could take a hint, wheather for good or bad, so don't be cross with me, for not once did I intend to make you feel uncomfortable or act rude or at all unpleasant. Maybe, maybe I tried too hard to endear myself to you. But then I realize it will not make any kind of difference three shrot years from today if you counted me as a friend in the scheme of you relationships, and you looked for me after graduation so you could tell me goodbye forever; we both know I'm not what you want, that no matter what I do, all you can ever giveos is a trite conversation or a brief, insincere "thank you" dropped like a bottle rolling off a bar that tumbles and wakes a bum from grand visions, as your drunken words awake me from the dreams I had of holding you in that first precious bloom of love that grows and fixes itself as a gentle and sweet period in otherwise a lame, absurdly tragic and strange pattern of hoped-for relationships that have not and never will come to fruition, but rather wither and die like my words you find sickly sweet, all in hope that I could change your heart, make you what you aren't, and that you could quicken me, and cheat the bleak fate that alarmingly becomes more clear and more apparent with each passing day, that I have been eternally cursed as rude, akward, and overbearing, like a ton of sand: not only smothering but removed and shaken and washed off when the acceptance of day is gone and it is time to change to clothes more suitible for the night, as you exchange me as the summer nears. So go then, I shall not pursue; I'm done with questing and with chasing after your sweet little solar systems of friends, so do not concern yourself with the fear that I might fall into orbit or disturb and bother you, even so little that you might be the first to wave as we pass by. irony's pretty ironic sometimes, eh jamesy?