2004-01-03 - 3:26 p.m.
I'm sitting here. And you're sitting there. And ...
(I'm trying to write a love letter..) i am flooded with feelings like an autumn sky, once empty, suddenly churned by a gusty barrage of almond colored leaves. The nearer winter presses, the more this vacant heart sows itself in your hand's fertile spring fields, watered by the consent your nourishing eyes faithfully pour on me, and combed by the deep plow of your wet mouth across longing's waiting skin.
Death cannot erase the continental breakfast portion of love allotted to me via cafeteria food fights with the rest of humanity. But it will offer healthy competition for placement in the domino line of memories regarding faithful courses of action.
(i'm also trying to write a suicide letter..)
Neither letter is working out. i don't love and i don't die. Like an orphan without suitable parents, I only come bearing an empty pocket and an unanswered question.
