06.11.05

oh oh

I want to write pretty things but I think my brain and the flying away like o that poor poor balloon wish is flying away and that I fear is never coming back that I have feared is not coming back for some time and I want to write about waling up so drowsily in the morning and having these little gangster movies playing in your head for an hour and how horribly pathetic to be humping your own thumb and wondering, wondering if groping is ok at this stage or if there will be nothing at all, you know you don�t want to be square. It�s become a different thing under inspection everything tends to become a vice. Humbleness becomes pride. A sort of sexuality becomes prudishness. My I feel so suffocated now. Like my world has bottomed out. Was I getting to comfortable with myself? I was just getting so ready to accept this lost jigsaw epic and then it came back. Oh how truly infuriating when I could have moved it. Could have put a nice flower pot there or a little insect to fly around and whisper things into my ear and fill my hair with thoughts of rum pudding and lacrosse.

shi-ou-sama at 5:13 p.m.

previous | next