1/29/2015 princeton thursday night all out of coffee and, sitting by wood slats of the sad sunroom i smile at a dead beetle
set the record down on helen forrest and all she does it talk about how she loves so madly
the sun sets on the west sourland bramble downwards the cul-de-sac ridge was in my line of sight long walks
but pulmonary bruises like the radiators and that was in what? october? april? no. april's too early
i close my eyes in bed and i still hear that ****** song enraptured i sink back and
i open again i open! i can't afford to die or lose same thing, just yet
i have dorms to sneak into and cigarettes to put out, more lifetime flatlines to complain about and
drain pipes to stand next to and grass to sink into when it thaws and unexpected phonecalls from past men to receive.
month long in absentia you never called me first and now i gotta go flip this record over, man. stand up down the stairs off the bed remind me not to blink for too long.