Saturday, December 11, 2004
it was midnight, I hardly remember anything under the irristable fear of catching a cold.
anyways when I woke up I found the tangible evidence that I did eat an apple crisp topped with vanilla ice cream and caramel.
fuck you essesive flab, fuck you low carb diet
Poet says with her maggots at 10:17 AM
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
in some sort of undeclared regret I urge to stab myself, by something plastic. no matter what tense is it, if I can come across those dark hills and sing an impossible song of desire then we should all whistle
Poet says with her maggots at 5:25 AM
in the barely unknown mist of the night we sat, listening to the rain like it's none of our business. watching everyone doing nothing or just a bit of everything in each other's comfort zone. knowing it's a best way to start off a day, or we say, the last bit of the quarter.
my brain sits impatiently at the back of my skull, but I can't tell it to stop rotate, whatever
can't even shrug now, whatever
Poet says with her maggots at 5:00 AM
