you long for me, but i'm short with you.

you recite their names so drunkenly rehearsed, just like the backwards alphabet.

and incase you haven't quite yet guessed;
i'm cutting ties with people like you.
life is too short to have "your kind of fun".

transfixed

I could cut back on all thet things that me me sick but what's the fun in life when you quit?

finding good things in an old book.

who knew.

and some people meet like meteors, crashing together; a collision of romance endlessly, either they sparkle on for light-year after light-year, or they collapse; falling to the basement of the universe to remain unmarked existent "now" and ready for the other worlds to come.

strange weather it seems..

as i lean to see
a tipping tree
swinging slowly
cast off, summer bound
thoughts lay tranquil
in the March air
i can't believe l'histoire
amazed that your still not quite there

exactly what i want

travel the world til' i'm old and grey, doesn't matter where i go, and lesser where i'll stay.

i thought i'd quit keeping tab.

in love with what's going on in my mind. i'm in the deepest of daydreams, but i'm still awake, no worries.