Every single day
every thing
is
new.

Want to open my mouth and howl and touch and yell and be.

What if this is the last snowstorm.

None of this is good enough.

tiny thorn.
may become bigger.
maybe isn't there at all. 
don't know.

I can't do this.

Well, Peace Corps wouldn't be until April at the earliest so that isn't an issue so much any more.

strandbeest is the new floorliving

I am feeling like a C today. 
In the future I want to be a T or perhaps an I. 
Most days I am an O or a Q.

Lost like a bell that's tipping over
With two cracks along both sides
And I knew the world was over so I took a look outside
And watched the fires that were reaching
Up to the weather vane and the tops of trees
And the waiting scene and the sunday dream
They're all waiting here for me

Deli markets with their flower stands
Pretty girls and the burning men
Hanging out on the hooks next to the window displays
And I took out my tongue twice removed from my face
Across a bridge and across the mountains
Threw a nickel in the fountain
To save my soul from all these troubled times
And all the drugs that I don't have the guts to take
To soothe my mind so I'm always sober
Always aching, always heading towards
Mass suicide, occult figurines
And wasted gas-station attendants
Attending to their jobs
And a nice drive in the country
Finds a nice cliff to drop off
Oh when this life just gets so grating
All the grittiness of life
But don't take those pills your boyfriend gave you
You're too wonderful to die

And the last one tore a picture
From the pornographic page
But all the pleasure points attacking
All the looks of love were staged
And its a lie that you've been giving
It just hurts you everyday
So why should I lay here naked
When its just too far away
From anything we could call loving
Any love worth living for
So I'll sleep out in the gutter
You can sleep here on the floor